The Penderwicks at Tanglewood
by she treads lightly on air
Summary: It's been three years since the vacation at Point Mouette with the guidance of Aunt Claire. Now, with Mr Penderwick and Iantha busy for the summer, they decide to send the sisters, Jeffrey, Tommy (and Hound, of course) to Iantha's relatives' cottage in Cornwall, Devon, UK. Without parental surveillance, what on earth will happen over the span of six weeks?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! Thanks for the reviews; I really appreciated them. I am going to continue this and keep this project going, so don't hesitate to follow this story. I will be updating this fic regularly (about once every few weeks?) and I am open for any suggestions - I might not put all of them into action but I definitely will listen to them. **

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall. I own only this idea and any OCs that may pop up.**

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CHAPTER 1

_Mr Penderwick Thinks (Almost) Everyone Is Old Enough_

_"Fall back! Fall back!"_ Jane roared, flailing her arms around so wildly she resembled a malfunctioning helicopter. "FALL BACK! RETREAT TO THE SAFE HAVEN!"

Skye was sincerely glad Jane was half a field away, because that helped reduce her full volume by – oh, a few hundred decibels?

Skye did her best to ignore her sister, panting as she did her best to dribble the soccer ball away from Jeffrey.

"You might as well give up," Jeffrey taunted. "Accept that I've improved over the year! You don't have any spaces open, you're using your weak foot and I'm right in your – HEY!"

Skye feinted and doubled, tricking Jeffrey into guarding his right side. Almost in slow motion, Skye whirled around in the other direction and slammed her left foot – her _strong_ foot, mind Jeffrey – against the side of the ball, sending it flying in a beautiful arc, piercing through the air. She watched with a satisfied smirk as his mouth clanged to the ground in shock.

Across the field, Jane whooped before handling the ball and scoring the goal. She did it so expertly and fluidly Skye swelled with Penderwick pride.

Skye turned back to Jeffrey. "You can pick your jaw off the grass now," she informed him. Jeffrey shook his head in disbelief.

"Go on, say it," Skye urged.

"Skye Magee Penderwick, you truly have shocked me with your supreme soccer skills," he said, grinning amusedly.

"It's about time you finally noticed," Skye shot back, punching him good-naturedly.

Jane ran up to them, her face lit up and shining. "That was brilliant, Skye, you executed it perfectly." "Thank you," Skye answered. "You could probably do it better than me if you only just _practised."_

Jane actually had more talent than Skye in football; Skye simply worked harder. This was why Skye couldn't stop nagging her to hone her skills properly – she needed her most trusted player in top shape!

Jane waved a hand in the air flippantly. "I would have no time for my deep and intellectual thoughts if I did so. Being an author _is_ a full time job that requires utter dedication, you know. Just look at my Sabrina Starr series as evidence."

Skye snorted in response. Jane still hadn't given up Sabrina Starr, much to Skye's chagrin. After _Sabrina Starr Rescues a Cricket, _the first of Jane's novels to ever be written, Sabrina Starr had valiantly saved a baby sparrow, a turtle, a groundhog, a boy (read: Jeffrey), an archaeologist (read: the unfortunate incident four years ago that involved the Homework Switch which Skye would rather not talk about, especially since it brought up the dreaded topic of the Aztecs) and an idiotic heartbreaker (read: Dominic Orne, a once object of affection who had in the end shattered Jane's heart. Personally, Skye always thought he had so much hair and fake attitude he would fit perfectly as a really bad Grease Lightning impersonator.)

Unfortunately, since the three years after that hadn't involved much excitement besides the annual summer with Jeffrey, Jane had temporarily put Sabrina Starr aside with much regret.

"I'm hungry," Jeffrey announced.

"You're always hungry."

"Well."

"Come _on_, let's head back," Jane tucked the soccer ball under her arm and sprinted off. "Race you to the house – last one in will have to be Piggy in the Middle in our next training session!"

Gritting her teeth, Skye didn't even bother to throw the anticipated insult at Jeffrey before she charged off. She knew that by doing so bought her a few precious seconds, since Jeffrey had hit a growth spurt recently and had the unfair advantage of longer legs.

"Yes!" Skye threw her fists up ecstatically as she reached Gardam Street before him. She continued to fly through the street and into the house, only to skid to a dead stop when Jeffrey's head poked out of the door.

Her look of outrage broke when Jeffrey burst out laughing. "You took the Quigley Woods shortcut, didn't you?" She yelled indignantly.

He held up his hands. "There weren't any rules!"

Storming away in a huff, Skye stomped to the kitchen, muttering death threats under her breath dedicated to a certain green-eyed boy. Jeffrey simply trailed in after her, giving her a cheerful thumbs-up.

Mr Penderwick was working the stove and something delicious was simmering in the pot. Jane was already by her side, helping him add ingredients into the bowl – surprisingly enough, Jane turned out to be the best cook out of all of them, even Rosalind. Iantha – dear, sweet Iantha, their lovely and amazing stepmother whom they all loved dearly – was flapping around anxiously, attempting to grill some vegetable of sorts but failing miserably. Rosalind, the oldest Penderwick, was laughing as she took over, patting Iantha on the shoulder.

Skye didn't need to look under the table to know Batty, Hound and Ben would be underneath. She knew now that Jeffrey was inside, Batty would wriggle out in three, two, one…

"Jeffrey!" Batty hopped around excitedly. Hound joined in with a bark and a wag of his tail. "You won't believe what Ben and I did today!"

Skye was seriously considering a future career in predicting mathematical probability outcomes.

Jeffrey scooped her up. She had just turned eight two months ago and was starting to grow heavy. At least, in Skye's opinion – Jeffrey with his stupid growth spurt probably didn't feel those few extra pounds.

Dodging Hound nimbly and ignoring Batty's insistent chatter, Skye swiped a few pieces of crackers sitting on the table, no doubt a remainder of someone's snack.

"Hi, Skye," Ben said solemnly. Skye crouched down to his height. _He_ was due to turn three at the end of this year.

"Oh, hey, Asimov," Skye said in surprise. Asimov usually spent his days scouring the trees for birds and rarely came in unless night had fallen.

The orange cat licked his paw in response. Knowing Asimov would ignore her like the regal prince the feline thought he was, Skye turned her attention back to Ben.

"How's it going, Ben? What did you do with Batty that I won't be able to believe?" She handed him a cracker as a peace offering, which he took and munched thoughtfully.

"We learned about caterpillars and their life cy – cy –"

"Life cycles?"

"Yeah. They become butterflies."

"Cool." Skye ruffled his hair affectionately. After three years of living with him, almost all of her awkwardness around little children had faded.

"Lunch is ready, children of mine," Mr Penderwick hollered. Jane banged a soup pot with a stick. "Come and feast; hungry brethren!"

Ben took Skye's hand and they headed to the table, where the tantalising aroma of grilled chicken beckoned.

Skye lifted Ben onto a mismatched stool before plopping herself down beside Iantha, who was staring mournfully at her chicken.

"Not hungry?" Skye ventured.

"After three years," Iantha said dully. "After _three long years_, consisting of lessons with your father, Jane, and Rosalind, I still can't refrain from burning _everything_ I try to cook."

Skye covered her sniggers unsuccessfully. "Um, at least being an astrophysicist doesn't require microwaving anything?"

Iantha gazed at her, wounded. Her glasses only magnified her doe-like gaze. "I can microwave ready-made meals!"

"Attention, attention, everyone," Mr Penderwick cleared his throat.

Jane raised her spoon to rap it against her glass, only to have him shoot her a sharp look.

Skye decided that the soup pot banging hadn't gone over well.

"Ahem. I have an announcement. A co-announcement, really." He shifted his gaze to Iantha, who was busy analysing the broccoli in her salad.

"A co-announcement," he repeated, a fond smile appearing once he realised that Iantha was occupied with mourning over her burnt vegetables.

"Oh! Right." Iantha nodded, abandoning the broccoli. "Your father and I have decided that all of you girls – and Jeffrey, naturally – have shown an astounding level of maturity around the house. Rosalind, you've impressed us with your fantastic driving skills…" At this, Rosalind glowed happily, having finally earned her driving license.

And a good thing too, Skye thought. The minute Rosalind had hit her sixteen birthday, she'd purchased stacks upon stacks of driving guide books and pamphlets, diligently devoured all of them and driven everyone crazy with her frequent quizzes and information about hand signs.

Even Hound had been bribed (by leftover lasagne) to stand by as one of Rosalind's moving obstacles while she test drove. As a result, Rosalind passed her driving test with flying colours on her first try.

"Obviously, Rosalind, you're the most reliable and we don't even need to discuss your OAP skills. In fact, Skye, _your_ level-headed thinking and ability to adapt to any situation has been simply incredible. You've warmed up to little children, and you did such a fantastic job while we were in London and you were in Maine three years ago, we know we have a second OAP who can handle anything…"

Skye fidgeted and picked at the table cloth, but she knew that she was blushing at the praise.

Mr Penderwick nodded in agreement, adjusting his ever-sliding glasses up his nose. "Yes, definitely; her temper is practically non-existent nowadays."

He smiled warmly at Skye, who felt slightly guilty since she _had_ just told Pearson to migrate to Antarctica.

But she digressed.

"Jane, my favourite author in the making," Jane sat up. "You've still got your head in your clouds, but my, your cooking skills!"

Jane smiled. "Your dishes taste exquisite and if your dream as an author were ever to go south, bear in mind that becoming a professional chef is always an open option. I cannot even begin to describe how ambrosial your stuffed green peppers are…"

"The same stuffed green peppers that were taught by me," Jeffrey mumbled. Skye kicked him under the table about the same time Jane prodded him sharply in the ribs.

"Ow."

"Moving on – Batty, my youngest daughter," Mr Penderwick went on. "You have completely taken over the reins of caring for Hound and I, as a father, am so proud of you for that. I no longer need to remember to feed that troublesome dog anymore –"

Unerringly sensing that his name was being trodden upon, Hound barked defensively.

"Quiet, blasted dog. You feed him, walk him, brush him – even _bathe _him without a single ounce of help! Batty, my darling, Hound has never looked so well-kept and content."

"Woof," Hound agreed.

Batty looked so delighted she looked like she was about to combust.

Skye shuddered momentarily, remembering how she was so convinced Batty would blow up at Point Mouette three years ago.

She had never looked at plastic inflatable pool toys the same way again.

"Last but not least, Jeffrey. You might not be related to us by blood, but as my daughters have repeated fervently, you truly are an honorary Penderwick. You are a fine and responsible young lad who with no doubt will become a successful musician in the future. I should think my daughters' combined adoration and love for you speaks for itself."

Jeffrey swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

"If you're done imparting your words of wisdom, Martin, I think we should give them the news now," Iantha teased.

"Ah, yes. The news – very well. Go ahead then, dear."

"We have decided," Iantha announced, "That since most of you are teenagers now, and since your summer has just begun, we'd give all of you a gift, of sorts."

"We've taken into consideration all of your wishes," Mr Penderwick added. "I distinctly recall Rosalind wanting to go somewhere with beautiful scenery, Skye somewhere nice and quiet, Jane an interesting culture, and Batty a forest?"

"We know that Jeffrey just arrived two days ago, but fear not, we won't be separating you. We simply thought that Gardam Street was a bit… dull for all of you young adults to spend your summer, especially since you've been doing this for three years – Jeffrey knows our beloved hometown like the back of his palm now."

He definitely did, Skye thought sourly. Seeing how he knew how to take the _Quigley Woods shortcut._

Jeffrey, somehow sensing that they were thinking about the same thing, sent her a mischievous grin that she gracefully ignored.

Jane sent Skye an excited look. Skye started to jiggle her thigh, a bad habit she did whenever she knew something big was coming. Rosalind tilted her head to look at her father, as if seeing him in a different light. Jeffrey's spoon paused, halfway to his mouth.

"As much as this pains me, you are no longer children. Rosy's sixteen, Skye and Jeffrey fifteen, Jane fourteen… Even my little Batty is eight. I cannot keep you cooped up under my surveillance forever."

"Therefore," Iantha continued, "We are sending you off to my relatives' cottage in Cornwall, Devon, in the UK."

For a split second, everything was silent. Then the silence was shattered by a burst of loud voices clashing against each other all at once.

"By ourselves? With no adults?"

"Even on the plane? Just us?"

"What about Ben? Is he coming along too?"

"Will your relatives be there? Or will we be staying alone?"

"Does my mom know about this? Because if she doesn't –"

"What's Cornwall like? It's near the Celtic Sea, isn't it?"

"How long will we stay?"

Mr Penderwick held up a hand. Everyone settled down reluctantly.

"Yes, you will be alone without myself or Iantha, even on the plane. Alas, Ben is still too young to be without his mother; he has not even turned three. No, Iantha's relatives will _not_ be there – they have left for a business trip in Tokyo for six months. They were kind enough to leave the cottage to you."

"Cornwall _is _near the Celtic Sea and is very charming – it's full of creeks, forests and fields, Rosy, it's very pretty. It's quiet as well, Skye, and Jane; I imagine most of the residents there are Irish. Finally, Batty, the cottage is right beside a forest. You will stay there for the whole of summer. Jeffrey, I phoned Alec the moment Iantha and I decided to go ahead with this, so he took care of the situation with your mother."

Jeffrey sighed in relief.

Mr Penderwick paused as the information sunk in. "Any more questions?"

"Daddy, are you sure about this?" Rosalind asked carefully. "I'd love to go away like this, but do you trust us enough to get on a plane _unsupervised_ and then _stay in_ _another country_ unsupervised?"

"Like I said, Rosy, this is not easy for me," Mr Penderwick answered. "Iantha and I considered following you to have a break as well, even though we know you all are fully capable of taking care of yourselves. Unfortunately, both of us are caught up in major projects at the university at the moment. I've mentioned the project several times to all of you – even Jeffrey. It's the one that could make or break my career."

"You're studying to get your PhD," Skye remembered.

"Yes, Skye, and Iantha is about to receive her professor's degree, which is extremely impacting and important as well. It's quite a milestone."

"Oh," Jane said.

"What about Hound?" Batty asked anxiously.

"He can go, although he will need to be sedated in order to sit through the flight," Iantha answered.

"What does sedate –"

"It means be put to sleep for a while, honey," Rosalind explained. "Because animals can't sit in airplanes as easily as humans, they need to get an injection so they'll sleep through it. Hound will be injected at the vet's before we leave, I suppose."

"Let me get this straight," Skye held up a hand.

"All of us, even Hound – except Ben – will head off to Cornwall without you, Daddy, or Iantha, and we'll stay in an empty cottage for the rest of the summer?"

"That's about right," Mr Penderwick confirmed, "Except I thought Tommy could go along. Rosy, I've asked Anna's mother but Anna's going to Australia. Anyway, I thought – well, it's silly of me, but I'd feel much safer with him there."

Skye didn't bother to look at Rosalind's beam which was no doubt radiating sunshine in all directions, blessing all creatures that happened to pass under her gaze.

"Sweet!" Jane crowed. "This is going to be amazing! It'll be like a complete isolation from civilisation, a getaway reality, a nirvana to seek, a time for self-actualisation…"

"If you want to become a total recluse or a hobo," Skye murmured. Jane glared at her.

"So, what do you think? Jeffrey? You haven't said a word," Iantha prompted gently, ever the sensitive figure.

"When do we leave?" Jeffrey laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's the second chapter - make sure to leave a review to let me know what you think. The Penderwicks and co. are on the move! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall.**

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CHAPTER 2

_Skye Takes Off Into The Sky_

As it turned out, the girls, Tommy, Jeffrey (and Hound) left three days after the Day of the Announcement.

Those three days whooshed by in a blink, filled to the brim with bustling around and the packing of suitcases. Each of them had to pack quite a great deal of clothing as they would be staying in Cornwall for six weeks.

The first thing Batty stuffed into her suitcase was her harmonica. She had started piano lessons early this year and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She loved her teacher, Ms Emily, who was tall and blonde with a kind smile. Batty went over to her music school every Friday afternoon for a half an hour lesson and they had just started learning music theory.

Realising that her suitcase would be stowed on top in the airplane luggage compartment, Batty withdrew her harmonica and zipped it into her backpack instead. She wasn't naïve enough to think she could play it on the plane – not only would Rosalind give her a small lecture, there was the threat of Skye bashing her head in before Rosalind could even utter a word. Batty simply liked the comfort of having her harmonica close to her and within stroking reach.

Then she proceeded to fill her suitcase with clothes, her pyjamas, one or two of Hound's toys and Funty. (Batty still endeavoured in collecting stuffed animals, but she was old enough now to rely only on Funty when travelling.) She slid the newest Ivy + Bean book and a puzzle Mr Penderwick had given her into her backpack. Batty knew that Rosalind would come in to check and add in anything she forgot, but since Rosalind had to pack her own suitcase and therefore wouldn't come in until much later, Batty slipped out of the house with Hound for his daily walk.

Meanwhile, Jane was stuffing her already overflowing suitcase with books, clothes, hats, notebooks, pens, her bathing suit… She'd tried asking Skye for some extra space in _her_ suitcase, but predictably, Skye had flat out refused. This left Jane to her own demise as she had to resort to sitting on her suitcase in order to zip it closed. It was hard work for Jane, especially since she kept on remembering she had forgone one more item each time she finally snapped the top shut.

Skye was extremely methodical with _her_ packing. She laid out everything she was going to bring on her bed. After folding all of the clothes neatly, she organised them into two separate piles: those that would go in her suitcase and those that would go in her haversack. Skye had decided that since airline entertainment (i.e. a small screened TV) would be provided, she would only need her advanced geometry workbook and a book about the Big Bang Theory Iantha had loaned her.

"Done," Skye said triumphantly. Snatching her binoculars – she had to remember to pack them later – she climbed out of the window and onto the roof.

Rosalind was having trouble. Being equally organised as Skye, she'd almost finished her packing when she realised that Tommy would be there.

With her. For the duration of the entire trip. Probably by her side every single day. Seeing what she wore, even when she was relaxing.

Panicking instantly, she whipped out her phone to call Anna in her crisis.

"What do you wear when you're vacationing with your boyfriend for _six consecutive weeks?"_ Rosalind hissed. Anna had just started to reply when someone knocked on her door. Swinging her door open immediately because she thought it was one of her sisters, she froze when Tommy appeared at the doorway.

"I'll call you back," she said faintly. "Hi, Tommy."

"Hey, Rosy." He stooped down to peck her cheek after he closed her bedroom door. Rosalind blushed, mentally cursing him for still having that effect on her even after three years. "Whoa. What happened?"

In her fit of frustration, Rosalind had knocked over the last pile due to go into her suitcase, scattering clothes everywhere. She thanked her lucky stars that she had already zipped her undergarments in, safely out of sight.

Rosalind went red again. "I – I was almost done until I realised you were coming along. Then I kind of freaked out."

Tommy scratched his head, looking worried. "Oh. Well, if you don't want me to come along, it's fine. I can just tell your dad –"

"No!" Rosalind shook her head vehemently. "I didn't mean _that. _I'd _love _for you to come along. I meant –" She sighed. "I-didn't-know-what-clothes-to-bring-since-you'd-b e-with-me-every-day," she blurted.

"Rosalind." Tommy stepped closer to tilt her chin up. "I think you'd look beautiful no matter what you wore."

"Oh!" Rosalind flushed _again. _

Tommy smirked. "You know, it's kind of cute that you're worried about that. Gives me a confidence boost, knowing I have that effect on you…"

Now he was going out of line. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she pressed her mouth to his and claimed him. His hands automatically lifted to hold her waist, eyes fluttering shut.

Rosalind let go, satisfied with how dazed her boyfriend looked. "Knowing you have _what_ effect on me?" She asked innocently.

(After Tommy left, she made sure her suitcase wasn't closed before three of her new dresses he had yet to see her in were safely tucked inside.)

As for Jeffrey, his packing took less than ten minutes since, like Mr Penderwick mentioned, he'd only been at Gardam Street for two days and he'd barely managed to _un_pack his suitcase in the first place.

When Jane woke up on the day they were due to leave Gardam Street, she felt an inexplicable sense of sadness. Call her sentimental, but Jane felt like the last of her childishness was seeping away from her. Going on vacation _without_ a responsible adult – not even Aunt Claire! It truly confirmed that maybe the Penderwick girls really were grown up.

"That doesn't matter," Jane told herself fiercely. "Just because we don't need adults to look after us anymore doesn't mean we can't still have a magical time. Why, Susan Pevensie was certainly older than I am now when she met Prince Caspian."

_But that was the last time she ever set foot in Narnia, _the niggling voice at the back of her mind whispered. _Don't you remember, Jane? She stopped believing; even Aslan told her that would be the last time she ever saw Narnia again._

"Shut up," Jane said aloud. "I'm never ever going to stop believing in magic, even when I'm seventy-three with grandchildren."

"Seventy three? Grandchildren?" Skye groaned into her pillow. "Don't start, Jane, it's still too early."

"Good morning to you too, Skye," Jane said brightly. Skye smothered herself under her duvet in response.

Knowing fully well that she could never go back to sleep once she was fully awake, Jane crept out of the room and went downstairs. With a quick glance at the kitchen clock, Skye was proved wrong. It _wasn't_ too early – well, maybe it was under normal circumstances, but their flight was a mid-morning flight and the taxi ride was three hours long. She could hear her father and Iantha's voices conversing in their bedroom.

Jane cranked up the coffee machine, busying herself with preparing breakfast. The good thing about being the best cook in the family was the lessening of chores. Jane was now exempted from doing the dishes now that she cooked nearly every meal.

"Morning, sweetheart," Mr Penderwick kissed the side of Jane's head before swiping a mug of coffee and drinking it slowly. Iantha padded in after him, giving her a brief hug.

"Go wake up the rest," Iantha told her. "Your father will handle the cooking; you should be getting ready."

Twenty minutes later, everyone was present, albeit slightly drowsy. Ben was still asleep in his cot and although Skye would never admit it, she had stopped by his room in her sleepy haze to kiss him on the forehead.

She'd blame it on being half-asleep if anyone saw her.

Rosalind had to shake Skye twice to keep her from nodding off into her porridge. Batty and Jeffrey didn't even bother – they simply slept with their heads on the table. Hound, poor, poor Hound – he was completely knocked out in a deadweight heap on the couch. The vet had paid them a house visit the night before and, not only had he given Hound the injection for the plane, he'd also given Mr Penderwick pills to crush into his food to ensure Hound wouldn't be awake for one whole day.

Then Tommy arrived, clad in comfortable airplane wear. After dumping his bags at the door and giving them all a clumsy wave, Rosalind had to keep _him_ from nodding off onto her shoulder.

Mr Penderwick shook his head. "What sleepy teenagers."

"I'm not sleepy," Jane volunteered. "And neither is Rosalind."

"Indeed you're not. Jane, Rosalind, since the others are not in capable conditions to hear my parting advice, I shall make do with both of you. Jane – I trust you with the responsibility on making sure everyone has a full and content belly, three meals a day."

"That means no soup without something solid to go with it, and no meals without vegetables," Iantha pressed. Even with her limited culinary skills, she was still a firm believer of a balanced diet with sufficient nutrition.

"Yes, of course. Rosalind, I want you to know that it's alright to take a well-deserved break once in a while. Tommy, Jeffrey and Skye are completely trustworthy and perfectly capable of taking over your role if needed."

"Yeah, Rosy, Mr Pen's right," Tommy said sleepily.

"Now, we have some rules to go over – three rules," Iantha said sternly. "And we need everyone to wake up for this."

She cleared her throat. Jane shoved Jeffrey, who in turn punched Skye, who in turn jabbed Batty.

Rosalind gave Tommy a refreshing shake in the shoulders, even though he had already proven his attentiveness by agreeing with Mr Penderwick a few seconds ago.

"Alright, since Cornwall is located near the forest, there'll be lots of gypsies hanging around," Iantha explained. "This means that many of them will be hanging around once it's dark out, and you won't know whether they mean to cause harm. Therefore, it is an absolute _must_ that whoever goes out after the light has gone has at least Tommy _or _Jeffrey to accompany them."

"Gypsies?" Jane's eyes shone. "Why, that's _wonderful!"_

Rosalind sent her a_ this not the right time to fantasise about your newest Sabrina Starr plot _look.

Jane meekly pretended to look uninterested in gypsies.

"So that's Rule Number One: none of you will go out once it's dark out without at least Tommy or Jeffrey by your side."

"Rule Number Two," Mr Penderwick took over, "Is one of you _will_ call us three times a week – that's every Monday, Thursday and Sunday – to inform and update us of your wellness in general. You will _not _miss _any _of these vital calls. If you do, there will be consequences."

Heads bobbed up and down around the table.

"Moving on to Rule Number Three," Iantha said. "Your curfew for all of you – except Batty – is twelve o'clock. Batty, yours is ten. Do not leave Batty alone in the cottage during the night – she might be old enough to walk around in the day time but she cannot be left to her own devices at night while the rest of you are having fun elsewhere. Leaving Hound with her is _not_ safe enough. Obviously, the ideal situation would be if all of you went to bed at ten with her, but since you're too old for that, we're leaving it to you to work out some sort of schedule and take turns staying with her."

Batty looked crushed for a moment and contemplated saying that she _was _old enough – she was _eight_ now, for goodness sake – but after imagining herself with only Hound for company in a dark and empty cottage, she kept her mouth closed.

"Those are all the rules and I hope all of you keep them as your top priorities," Mr Penderwick intoned. "I'm also sure that every one of you will uphold the Penderwick Family Honour. As for the money…"

"Rosalind will be handling the financial expenses for this entire trip – all of you, including Rosalind, will use your own savings from your allowances to buy any souvenirs and such. We trust Rosalind enough to use it wisely and spread the money through the weeks for food, emergencies and occasional group treats – apparently there's a carnival set up for the duration of your stay…"

Batty and Jane squeaked in excitement. Even Skye looked interested.

"Tommy and Rosalind? No sleeping in the same bed," Mr Penderwick stated firmly.

No one could tell whose face was redder.

"That's about it," Iantha finished. As if on cue, a honk sounded outside – the cab that was in charge of taking them to the airport must have arrived.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of tearful goodbyes, long hugs, fervent promises and the frantic lugging of Hound into the boot. Before Jane could say "Tally-ho, my beloved father and stepmother!" the cab driver had started his engine and soon the Penderwick residence was a mere spot in the distance.

The cab ride was long and boring with no excitement whatsoever. The driver kept to himself throughout the entire ride, and complete with the soothing tones of the jazz station he was listening to, no one was fully coherent until they reached the airport.

"Right," Rosalind said immediately after they'd handed Hound over in his cage to a nice airport attendant who was in charge of making sure all pets made it safely onto the plane. "Let's head over to the check-in counter."

After a bit of hauling and grunting from Jeffrey and Tommy with some enthusiastic side-lines cheering from the girls, the two boys managed to secure two of the gigantic suitcases they were checking in onto the conveyor belt.

Those two enormous suitcases weren't even filled with clothes – oh no, everyone had all of their clothes and personal belongings safely stored in their carry-ons. Those two bulky suitcases contained food like canned beans, potato chips, packet soup, cheese crackers, sandwich spread, tomato sauce, salami, dog food – even some microwave meals (Iantha couldn't be convinced that the money Rosalind had been entrusted with was enough to feed all of them, considering there _were _two growing boys and a dog in the clan).

Those two suitcases also contained Jane's books (she'd finally given up after even the combined weight of Tommy and Hound, deemed the two heaviest in the house, couldn't manage to close her bursting suitcase), four deflated soccer balls, some family games and a collection of beach toys. With all of this in them, it was a wonder the conveyor belt wasn't groaning as the suitcases disappeared into the hole that took them – well, no one really knows where the hole goes to, do they?

"How much time do we have until our flight?" Skye asked.

Rosalind briefly flashed the tickets and their boarding schedule. "Forty five minutes before we need to go to the seating room. Do any of you want to go anywhere? Maybe visit some of the shops, check out some…?"

Jeffrey playfully forced her to tuck the papers back into her handbag. "No need to tag along with us anymore, Rosy. We're teenagers now and we all know you'd much rather walk around with Tommy."

"Jeffrey! I can't –"

"Rosalind," Batty spoke up, "Even I can tell you want to hold hands with him without us tagging along."

Skye didn't even bother trying to contain her laughter at Rosalind's tongue-tied expression.

Tommy gave Jeffrey a nod as thanks and ruffled Batty's curls. "C'mon, Rosy, it'll be fun. We can walk around a bit, maybe get a bite to eat…"

"Oh, we all know you just want to get a cheeseburger and you only want me to go along so you can eat as much as you want to without looking weird," Rosalind fumed, clearly annoyed at how she was being outnumbered.

Skye, Jane and Batty snickered, knowing fully well about Tommy's appetite – he _had _grown up with them and ate snacks at their house their entire lives, after all.

Tommy sighed exasperatedly. "Rosalind, I've been saving up from my job at Taco Bell and I'd really like to spend some money on you but you're making it really difficult to do so."

The tips of Rosalind's ears turned pink. "Let's just – let's just leave," she said, but she wrapped an arm around Tommy's before they walked off, dragging their respective hand luggage behind them.

"Well then. Now that we've finished watching the Tomalind Show, what do you folks want to do?" Jane asked after a beat.

"Tomalind?" Skye fake gagged. "Please tell me you're not actually a fan of them being all couple-y."

"Would you really prefer Rommy, Skye? The Rommy Show? Is that what you would prefer?"

"I'd like to go to the toy shop," Batty cut in, before Skye could throttle Jane. "I have leftover money from my birthday from Aunt Claire. Skye, they have that telescope thing Iantha recommended you've been eyeing. Oh, and Jeffrey, the newest edition of the super soaker Nerf guns are out."

Jeffrey grinned, wrapping an arm around Batty's shoulders. "Since when have you become so inquisitive, huh?" Batty blinked at him innocently.

"You're even starting to make _Skye_ speechless, which is an impressive feat by itself," Jane agreed. Skye pinched her arm.

"Ouch."

"Let's just – let's just go."

And so the four of them walked around the airport for the remaining half an hour, chatting animatedly as they shopped around. After Batty picked up a mini battery keyboard, Skye caved and bought the telescope while Jeffrey purchased the Nerf gun – "Hey, we _are_ staying beside the beach, aren't we?" Then, in order to be fair to Jane (giving her the time limit of ten minutes since she could stay there for the rest of the day) they stopped by the bookstore where she resurfaced with five new books.

When they sprinted out of the perfume department at last, nearly collapsing from laughter, it was time to meet Rosalind and Tommy in the seating room. Because of how Skye had been annoying all of the perfume ladies by trying on every single scent and how Jeffrey had been pretending to be searching for a 'rare perfume highlighted by the faintest touch of wild Antarctic hedge boar', they had to run and only managed to reach the room with seconds to spare.

A normal Rosalind awaiting them would have given them disapproving looks, but because the Rosalind that _was_ waiting for them had a new and beautifully carved bracelet around her wrist, courtesy of Tommy, all they received was a hurried shove into the plane.

They did receive disapproving looks from the flight attendant, though.

Passing by the first class bunk was torture and all of them lingered there wistfully, taking in the plush seats and leg room until the same grumpy flight attendant coughed tactfully. They then had no choice but to bump their way through the business class section, where the aisles got narrower and narrower until they reached the economic seats.

Everyone stared at the cramped area gloomily.

Even the sight of Hound peeking out from the curtain at the back (he was sprawled out with his paws in the air in his metal cage) did nothing to help.

"Let's get our suitcases up, troops," Rosalind said brightly, trying to distract them from feeling depressed – starting a trip with a depressed attitude was a big NO in her book. "Look, we have four centre seats and two seats by the window…"

She trailed off, gulping. Fighting for the window seats was common in every family and the Penderwicks were no exception.

To her utmost surprise, Skye waved her hand and gestured for her and Tommy to take the two seats. "Go on, go on. That way we won't think it's unfair and you two can continue your lovers' fiasco."

Rosalind opened her mouth for a snappy retort, but Jane beat her to it.

"Rosy, ignoring the comment about you and Tommy – which is still undoubtedly true – you've always gave way all these years for the rest of us younger Penderwicks. The window seat is yours, unless Tommy wants it, which even if he did wouldn't happen because he'll do anything for you."

Rosalind sighed and shook her head. "Guess it's mine then." She slid in, pulling Tommy after her. The rest of them clomped their ways into the remaining seats. Batty, refusing to sit at the edges and only in the middle _with_ Jeffrey had them all bickering for about five minutes before a seating arrangement was agreed upon. Skye sat at the left side of the aisle, Jeffrey beside her, then Batty and finally Jane.

"I'll bet you five bucks that it'll take Rosy five minutes to put her head on his shoulder," Jeffrey whispered. Skye gave him a look.

"What, and lose a sure bet? I think you've forgotten that I'm the esteemed mathematician here with the best probability skills. Of _course_ her head will be on his shoulder in five minutes. In fact, _because _it took us five minutes to sit down, both of them are already snuggling."

Sure enough, Rosalind was already leaning on Tommy while both of them absentmindedly leafed through the flight magazines.

"They're so in sync it gets scary," Skye whispered.

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and nodded. His eyes lit up as he leaned over Skye to look at the magazine Tommy was holding. "Hey, are they really showing that movie?"

"Yeah," Tommy answered. "Says so right here. You have to go to the comedy section."

"Awesome." Skye shoved Jeffrey back into his seat.

"Why haven't you seen that movie anyway?" She asked curiously. "It came out long ago and they kept on showing it for one and a half months because it was so popular."

"We saw it on the first week," Batty piped up. "It was good but a little scary."

Skye didn't know how a comedy could be scary, but since she really didn't want to get annoyed with Batty now, she stopped herself from saying anything.

"No time," Jeffrey answered pitifully. "I have no time at all in Boston and my mom would never take me out for a movie."

Skye shook her head. "You poor deprived thing." Jeffrey swatted her away before making a point to speak to Batty. Unfazed, Skye flipped through the magazine herself and found at least three scientific programmes she was definitely going to watch. After many callings of missing passengers, the plane took off into the sky.

Hah. The plane took Skye off into the sky.

The flight took a total of fourteen hours which were filled with countless movies, TV programmes and two meals. The same grumpy flight attendant served them their trays with sealed boxes. As with all airline food, it tasted horrible, so no one – not even Tommy – managed to finish their meals.

Eventually, they touched down in Newquay Cornwall Airport at the stroke of midnight. By the time all of the bags had been collected and Rosalind had done a quick head count, every member of their group was shattered. Hound was still deadweight behind the metal bars. Flagging down a cab proved to be exhausting but thankfully the driver was there to help them load the bags (and Hound) in. Rosalind didn't even bother to tell the driver where to go – she just handed him the piece of paper with the address on it.

"I'm tired," Batty whined as she crawled into the back.

"The exhausted travellers could scarcely lift a limb for it felt like their bodies had been injected with lead," Jane murmured. She flung an arm over the seat and began to snore.

Jeffrey uttered something intelligible.

"Right back at you," Skye yawned, feeling as if her jaw was breaking.

The driver, a big, burly man with blinding ginger hair and an equally orange beard to match, chuckled. "Long flight, lassie?" His voice was laced with a thick Scottish accent.

"Fourteen hours," Skye replied. "I feel like I'm going into a coma."

The driver grinned at the mirror. "Ye lot isn't the worst I've seen, hah! I've had me-self passengers who couldn't even talk! Had to wake them up me-self, I did."

"Trust me, none of us will be awake by the time we reach the cottage," Rosalind assured him. "Have you heard of the area we're staying in, Mr…?"

"Call me Berk, love," he said kindly. "The place you're stayin' in is pretty as a picture! Looks like it came right out of a book or a paintin', really. It's got the sea, the woods, charming little shops in a quaint little town."

"That's great," Rosalind said. "How's the weather, Mr Berk?"

"A bit cold in the winds, girlie. The day will be cool, but you're gonna have to bundle up well in the night."

"Oh! Thanks for the advice." Rosalind made a mental note to remind the rest to put on jackets later. Tomorrow morning, maybe, when they woke up in unfamiliar rooms, surrounded by beautiful scenery… She and Tommy could go on long walks in the fields while holding hands… What was it that Anna had said about going on walks when you were a couple? Something about making sure… something about… Rosalind could've sworn Anna had said something about wearing green…

"We're here, duckies, time to wake up."

With a jolt, Rosalind realised she, too, had drifted off. Smiling at Berk sleepily, she handed him the fare she had the sense to count out at the beginning of the cab ride.

She shook everyone awake and herded them out of the cab. Berk, bless him, helped them to carry their belongings all the way up to the porch door and Rosalind gave him a kiss on the cheek for doing that. Then he drove away into the night and blackness swallowed him whole.

Rummaging around her pocket for the keys, she fumbled and twisted until the key turned and let them in. Six of them tumbled in with all of their bags. Tommy went back outside to drag Hound in, grumbling about the heavy cage. Rosalind locked the door, shoved the bolt and turned around – only to realise the hallway was empty, sans for Tommy.

And the suitcases. Oh, and Hound, of course.

"They went upstairs straight away," he told her. "Shall we?"

Rosalind nodded, too tired to say anything. Snaking an arm around Tommy's waist and putting her full weight on him, she allowed him to lead her up the stairs before they parted into different rooms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Before you start reading, I have an announcement of sorts. Unfortunately, I will not be including Skyffrey in this story because of three reasons.**

**Reason 1 – because Skyffrey has not been confirmed, I don't think I will be able to do them justice (I write romance fics a lot better once the original author has officially put two characters together). 2 – don't get me wrong, I **_**do**_**ship Skyffrey, but in my opinion, with the way Skye is right now I don't think she'll get around to thinking of Jeffrey romantically until she's a LOT older. Finally, the last reason – I already had a few OCs in mind that will play an important part in the overall plot; you'll understand why once you've read this chapter.**

**That said, I hope you all will still stick with this story even without the element of Skye x Jeffrey in it.**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall.**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

_Batty Is The Only One Who Knows What's Going On_

_Scrape. Scrape. Scrape._

Skye's eyelids fluttered open, her blue eyes still clouded with sleep. She was in a dark room with wallpaper that was a deep, rich shade of red.

A quick look around showed that Skye, Jane and Batty had fallen asleep in the master bedroom in the king sized bed. This in itself was a miracle, seeing as Jane snored and talked in her sleep while Batty was a notorious kicker when unconscious.

Skye got out of bed quietly, careful not to jar the quilt cover. She dimly recalled how all of them had stumbled into the house, up the stairs and into random rooms last night.

Skye hoped that Rosalind was rational enough to discuss room arrangements later on, because she would definitely end up in an asylum if she had to share a room – much less a bed – with Jane and Batty for six weeks.

_Scrape._

Skye headed over to the window and peered out, drawing back the maroon curtains as she did so. She found herself facing a squirrel who was busily trying to de-shell a nut.

"Scram," Skye told the squirrel. "I'd like to explore the place without any of my younger sisters waking up to join me, thank you very much."

The squirrel cocked its head before staring at her defiantly, as if saying, "And this is my problem because…?"

"Go," Skye warned with her hands poised, "Or I'll open this window myself."

The squirrel scampered off.

Satisfied, Skye unpacked her toothbrush and a clean set of clothes.

Five minutes later, Skye stood outside the cottage with her trusty binoculars dangling from her wrist. She'd try out her telescope later on in the day – right now she was aching to find a tree, scale it and perch on top to stake out Cornwall. From what she could tell on the ground, Cornwall did not disappoint.

Skye inhaled the deliciously fresh air, breathing in deeply. There were trees scattered all around the cottage, which was why the air was so clean – trees did respire normally with oxygen but their constant process of photosynthesis required carbon dioxide in order to produce their own food source, glucose and oxygen. Skye wasn't an environmental freak who went around petitioning with loin cloth bags and organic badges, but she knew how important trees were.

The cottage itself really did look like it had come out of a cheesy Enid Blyton storybook. Not only did it have the stereotypical thatched roof with a magnificent chimney, its walls were made out of golden brown brick with a neat knocker on the door to match. Ivy and bluebells crawled up its exterior, clinging to every nook they could find. The yard was neatly trimmed with flat hedges and rows of flowers. In fact, one of the trees had a tyre swing while another had a birdhouse.

Smack in front of the cottage was a narrow winding road that twisted off into the distance. It was coarse and bumpy which explained the jumpy cab ride they had to endure the night before.

The road was horizontal, which meant parallel to it was an endless field that stretched out for miles and miles. Skye happily envisioned all of the soccer they could play and all of the picnics they could have in the vast expanse.

To her left was a caravan next door to the cottage. It was hooked up to pipes and wiring, probably to provide the owner with water and electricity. The caravan was a shade of off white with what seemed to be lanterns and fairy lights strung around the door.

Skye could make out a distant village if she kept her gaze going in that direction. It looked to be about a ten minute walk, five if they managed to get a hold of some bikes.

Behind the cottage and the caravan was the forest. Even from where Skye stood she could hear the cheerful bubbling of a creek. Skye wandered over to the tree with the tyre swing, taking a few experimental rides. She slowed down after a while, pleased with the distance its pendulum could go.

She looked up, trying to analyse the tree. Would it be a good, solid tree with a sufficient view on top? She placed one foot on its bark, finding a foothold –

"Don't," a female voice interrupted. Skye whirled around, surprised. A girl about her age was standing in front of the caravan and she was holding a basket of – clothes? A basket of laundry.

Skye guessed that the girl was their next door neighbour.

"Why not?" Skye asked stubbornly. The girl, upon further inspection, was barefoot and looked exactly like a gypsy. She had the chunky bracelets and rings complete with the whole 'Mother Nature is the best' persona. Skye eyed her warily, distinctly remembering Iantha telling them to keep a wide berth around gypsies.

The girl shrugged. "It's not a good tree to climb. Your view will get blocked by the fourth or fifth branch." She started to peg the clothes on a washing line.

Skye was surprised once more. With that full sentence, Skye would have expected an accent as thick as Berk the cab driver's to emerge, but this girl spoke like a normal American.

"Try the tree with the birdhouse," the girl told Skye. She gave Skye a half smile before heading back into the caravan, shutting the door closed.

Skye thought about it for a minute. The weird gypsy girl wouldn't gain or lose anything by giving Skye helpful advice, and if the birdhouse tree _was_ brittle and broke down, causing Skye to fall, the girl knew that she lived _right next door_ and wouldn't get away with it.

So she headed over to the tree and climbed.

Skye made it to the top, clambering over the last few branches. She settled down on a wide bough and brought her binoculars to her eyes.

Skye whistled in awe. The view was amazing up here – Skye could manage full 360 vision without anything obscuring her sight. Skye could definitely make out the town she had seen earlier. She adjusted her lens and zoomed in eagerly. She could see a bakery, an apothecary clinic, a post office, a church, a bookstore, a whole row of shops… She could even make out tiny ant people moving about with their own business. A red bus the size of a match box chugged along the street before stopping abruptly. The tiny ant people swarmed into the bus, jostling like a normal crowd…

"Skye!"

Skye huffed, irritated. Who was disturbing her _now?_ She angled her binoculars down, squinting.

Jeffrey and Jane stood at the bottom, craning their necks in order to see her.

"Go away." Skye shifted back to the comfortable position she had been in before she was rudely cut off from her peace and quiet.

"Rosalind wants a meeting," Jeffrey shouted.

"Is it an emergency?" Skye hollered back.

"No."

"Then I'm not going." Skye lay on her back to look at the clouds, sighing contentedly as an entire flock of swallows flew by.

"It's about the rooms," Jeffrey threw bait.

Skye groaned. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She began her descent grumpily.

"How early did you wake up anyway?" Jane ventured curiously. "You normally take half an hour to find the best tree."

Skye jumped onto the ground. "A weird gypsy girl helped me. She lives next door."

"In the caravan?" Jane exclaimed eagerly, twisting her body to face next door. "That's so exciting!"

"She's strange," Skye informed them as they walked into the cottage. "She dresses like a gypsy but she speaks like us. She's definitely not from around here."

"All the more thrilling," Jane began to get her signature faraway look. "She could be a refugee from America or a runaway from a circus, a free spirit seeking answers… She came here to learn the gypsy lifestyle, make a few allies, and transform her life…" Jane whipped out a pocket notebook and began to scribble hastily.

Skye ignored her, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Hello," she greeted. Everyone had gathered in the living room. Hound seemed to finally be awake as he was devouring a huge bowl of kibble like his life depended on it.

(Tommy was swallowing multiple cereal bars in a similar fashion.)

Rosalind nodded. "Good morning. Now that everyone's here, let's decide the bedroom arrangements. Jane and Jeffrey, would you fill us in on the room situation, seeing as you've gone on a full tour?"

"Absolutely, Rosalind," Jane puffed up her chest and clasped her hands behind her back. "There are four bedrooms and three bathrooms upstairs and two bedrooms and one bathroom downstairs. Yesterday night, Skye, Batty and I fell asleep in the master bedroom upstairs. Jeffrey, Tommy and Rosalind each fell asleep in a single bedroom upstairs as well, am I right?"

Affirmative grunts responded.

"So that means," Jeffrey continued. "That there is one master bedroom and three single bedrooms upstairs. There are two single bedrooms down here, and although they are smaller, they have the best views in the house."

"So that means there are enough single bedrooms for five people, but one person gets the master bedroom," Batty commented.

"Exactly."

"Hound draws for order," Rosalind announced. Hound looked up momentarily before continuing his breakfast.

"Wait!" Skye protested. "Please, wait! Why don't we just sort this out like civilised people instead of relying on pure chance and Hound's sense of direction? I think I speak for a few of us here who honestly don't mind having a single bedroom."

Rosalind hesitated. "Where are you going with this?"

"Jeffrey and I can stay downstairs and share a bathroom," Tommy offered. "It's safer for you girls to stay upstairs, and although Jeffrey won't admit it, he joins me for midnight snacks in the kitchen occasionally."

Jeffrey had the decency to look sheepish.

"That could work," Rosalind said slowly. "Jane, Skye, both of you could each get a bathroom and a single bedroom upstairs."

"Yes!" Skye crowed. She'd had the luxury of having a bedroom all to herself while on vacation a few times, but never an entire bathroom.

"That leaves the master bedroom and one single bedroom," Jane noted. "You and Batty could share the remaining bathroom."

"I'd like to sleep on my own with Hound," Batty decided. Hound barked in agreement. "But we can have sleepovers every week, Rosalind, and I'll take the bedroom closest to you."

Rosalind looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "I get the master bedroom…?"

Skye squeezed her shoulder. "Just take it, Rosy, remember how you let me have the biggest bedroom in the Arundel cottage?"

Rosalind sent her a grateful smile as everyone flew to their newly assigned rooms to unpack. "Let's use your method of just having a civilised discussion from now on."

* * *

Jane was having a great day.

Her single bedroom she'd gotten had the loveliest floral wallpaper she'd ever seen with a matching lavender duvet. The furniture – the bed, its bedside table, the wardrobe, the dressing table, the cosy little armchair – all of it was delightfully vintage, polished to a gleaming shine, carved out of oak and mahogany. Why, Jane felt like she was living in an old room from the Second World War.

She probably was! This _was _the UK countryside, and she was pretty sure Cornwall was on her history textbook's list of small towns children took solace in during the war. If she concentrated hard enough, maybe she could even sense the spirits of the children who had to flee from the city and into the countryside to escape the night raids. Jane could only imagine how terrified the little girls and boys had felt, clad in only thin nightgowns as they left their homes, clutching only small suitcases, a letter from their parents, a comforting teddy, perhaps…

Batty had already moved into the bedroom closest to Rosalind and Skye had sped out of Jane's room the second she'd seen the floral pattern. This meant that the room was all hers.

Jane hummed a jovial tune as she went about unpacking her belongings. She clumsily slammed the drawers in the wardrobe shut and then proceeded to arrange her toiletries in her very own bathroom. Now that she had a private bathroom, she could have long, soothing, candlelit baths with a tray of chocolates by her side. No more Skye to barge in like a hurricane, demanding why she was taking so long and would she please finish up for the sake of everyone else…

Someone knocked on the door – not Jane's bedroom door, but the _front _door downstairs. Well, pounded, really. Hound yapped insistently, alerting everyone that there was a stranger.

"Can somebody get that?" Rosalind called. "I have my hands full here…"

Jane dashed down the stairs, meeting Skye at the landing. Tommy and Jeffrey were reclining lazily on the couch, flicking through the channels with the TV remote. Hound paced around the door, whining.

"Pigs," Skye sniffed. Jane flung open the door.

A gangly teenage boy with unruly black curls under his cap stood on their porch, grinning. His grin practically screamed _troublemaker _and _class clown _all at once. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he half leaned on the door frame.

Jane couldn't take her eyes off of him, and she could tell Skye was in the same situation. The only difference was Jane's eyes showed _mesmerisation _while Skye's expression was more along the lines of _horrification._

"Mornin'," the boy said cheerfully, snapping his suspenders. He was actually wearing honest-to-good suspenders. "I suppose you're the Penderwicks?"

"Yes, yes we are," Jane said breathlessly. He had an Irish lilt as he spoke which was probably the most endearing sound she had ever heard.

"Jane? Skye? What's going on?" Rosalind and Batty materialised by their sides. Colin lifted his cap at them, an old fashioned gesture so chivalrous Rosalind smiled at him immediately.

"The name's Collin. Collin O'Brien. I'm here to deliver your milk." Collin held up a basket by his fingertips. Sure enough, six glass bottles of milk clinked against each other.

"You must be mistaken," Skye told him frostily. "We're only here for the summer. Did Iantha's relatives forget to cancel their deliveries?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Collin answered smoothly, unaffected by Skye's sudden impersonation of the Ice Queen. "Mr and Mrs Callaghan actually told me to continue the milk route to their cottage. They told me that young people like you – six of you, am I right? And a dog, apparently, hello, boy – they believe in teenagers drinking milk. Helps with the growth, they said. Don't worry, all the money's been taken care of."

"Thank you," Rosalind said warmly, reaching out to accept the basket. "I'm Rosalind; this is Jane, Skye, and Batty. That's Tommy and Jeffrey. So will you be coming every day? Is that too much trouble?"

"Oh, not at all, miss, not at all. I'll come two, three times a week? Depends on how old Bessie feels– you're drinking her milk, and let me tell you, she's the farm's best cow."

Batty instantly perked up. "Where does she live? Is there a farm in the village?"

Collin crouched down from his great height, scratching Hound behind the ears. "Old Bessie lives in the local farm. She loves maize and grass – she's a very sweet and friendly cow. You should visit her some time – she eats right out of your hand, nuzzles you even if you're a stranger." He straightened.

"Besides, I have to deliver milk to your next door neighbour too, so it'll be no difference from when the Callaghan's were here."

"Our next door neighbour?" Jane blurted. "You mean the girl who lives in the caravan whom Skye met earlier this morning?"

Collin nodded. "Yeah, that's her! Her name's Nova. Pretty thing, that one, she's got all the boys twisted around her finger. Doesn't know the effect she has. Very mysterious – but not my type." He threw Skye a wink, who only looked at him with contempt.

"Anyhow, I have to get going. Have to finish my milk run and then head over to Mam's bakery for my shift." Collin tipped his cap once more before jogging down the porch steps and mounting his bike.

"Nice talking to you, Collin!" Jane waved.

Skye closed the door before Collin could wave back.

"Skye," Rosalind scolded. "Why were you so rude around him?"

"Because he's annoying," Skye replied flatly. "And because he looks like he's a film reject from a BBC remake of the World Wars."

"Skye!" Jane said, aghast. "He was so charming! Such a gentleman! In today's modern society, meeting one is such a rare occurrence it will probably only happen once in a lifetime!"

_"I'm_ gentlemanly," Tommy said, looking wounded. Rosalind quickly set the milk down and went to soothe his manly pride.

"So am I," Jeffrey echoed. Batty and Hound rushed over to him in empathy.

"He winked at you, Skye," Batty said.

"Argh!" Skye threw her hands up and stomped upstairs.

"Anyone wants go into town?" Jeffrey suggested. Batty slipped his hand into his and they walked out, Hound following closely.

Jane placed her hands on her hips, annoyed. "When will she _ever_ appreciate the opposite sex?" It wasn't even about Collin blatantly showing his interest in Skye – Jane was too _fascinated _by his quirks to be _attracted_ to him – it was the fact that Skye solidly maintained a single status even when it was clear how boys were starting to notice her. Take Pearson, for example – although he'd eventually stopped bugging Skye and asking her out, his consistent puppy dog adoration that had built up for nearly four years now made Jane wince when she came in contact with it.

Jane wished Skye would just get over whatever was holding her back and go out on a date. They were teenagers now, for goodness sake; they were in their prime and could afford to have their hearts broken while they were still young and feckless. The moment _Jane _had turned eligible she'd gracefully gone on a few dates and although none of them were too serious, she had basked in the attention of being sought out romantically.

Rosalind smiled. "Skye's the most independent out of all of us, so you needn't worry. She'll come around when she's ready." She tucked her feet in on the couch comfortably. Tommy's arm automatically found its rightful place – encircling Rosalind.

"Well then." Jane turned to leave. _She _might as well do something productive now that everyone was occupied. Tommy and Rosalind were watching a movie; Jeffrey had taken Batty and Hound into town, and because she knew Skye so well, Skye would be stewing upstairs in her bedroom, taking her anger out on defenceless geometry questions.

"I'm going to hone in my writing skills once and for all," Jane decided, already heading out the living room. "I need to get further inspiration for my next Sabrina Starr book. Sabrina Starr's bright spirit cannot be contained or oppressed any longer – she must now be revived with an epic comeback in the eighth book of the series."

* * *

"Jeffrey, do you want a girlfriend?" Batty inquired as they walked along the lane with Hound on a leash.

Jeffrey, astonished, bent down to Batty's eye level. "Why ever would you ask that, Batty?"

Batty shrugged. "Well, because I was worried you were lonely. Tommy and Rosalind are so interested in each other now the rest of us sort of fade into the background. But it's good for Rosalind – she spent so many years taking care of us she ended up forgetting about herself."

Jeffrey was stunned by how much Batty had managed to pick up. At this rate, she was really becoming the most observant out of all of them.

It was hard to digest. After all, this was the same girl who, four years ago, had handed him her most prized possession (butterfly wings) for safekeeping telling him that he needed to get a love life.

"Batty, do you still want to marry me?" Jeffrey asked hesitantly, remembering her adamant fantasy from a few years ago.

"Of course not," Batty looked at him with solemn eyes. "I love you, Jeffrey, but not in that way. You'll always be my hero but if we married each other it wouldn't work out."

"Good. It's good that you understand that. And I love you too, Battikins, I always will." He took her hand again as they resumed their walk. Hound bounded along in front of them, happily sniffing all of the new scents.

"You didn't answer my question," Batty piped up.

"About whether I want a girlfriend? I don't know, Batty," Jeffrey answered honestly. "I do think that some girls are pretty – I've met one or two pretty girls during my school's annual winter dance and I think you and all of your sisters are pretty."

"What do you think about Jane and Skye?" Batty prompted.

Jeffrey pondered the question. What _did _he think about Jane and Skye?

"You tell me," Jeffrey said at last.

Batty thought for a moment. "I think – you love them the same way you and I love each other. Jane prefers boys who are quiet and sad for some reason, and you're too funny and happy to be like that, so both of you won't happen. Maybe you and Skye could try dating each other when we're a lot older but as for right now Skye would punch your lights out and I don't think you even like her that way."

Jeffrey stared at Batty with newfound respect. "I daresay, Ms Elizabeth Penderwick, you are turning out to be the only one who really knows what's going on."

"I know that."

Jeffrey laughed.

"Oh, look, Jeffrey, this little village is called Avondale." Batty said, reading off the hand painted sign that greeted them at the town entrance. She started to skip, forcing Jeffrey and Hound to break into a light run.

"Look at all of the shops!" Batty cried. "There's even a post office around the corner… Oh, Rosalind would love that scarf…"

She ran up to the store windows and peered inside, taking in all of the displays that proudly showed off their merchandise. Then Hound started pawing the butcher's shop window because the scents of the meat behind the door were starting to taunt him mercilessly, so they had to go in and buy him a small string of sausages to suffice his hunger.

"I thought that we could check out the bakery, maybe bring back some pastries for the rest back at the cottage," Jeffrey told her once they had emerged and Hound had attacked the sausages. "And then…"

"And then what?" Batty asked. Jeffrey pretended to look bored.

"Oh, I don't know, I thought we could maybe check out the local farm. Apparently the cow whose milk we're drinking lives there. What's her name again? It started with a B, didn't it…?"

"Yes!" Batty cheered. "Yes, I'd love to go visit Bessie!"

"Look, there's the bakery, Batty, let's go inside," Jeffrey urged. "We might as well have our breakfast here, just the two of us."

They pushed through the doors and were instantly hit with the heavenly smell of baked bread and warm butter. Batty led them over to the counter where a friend was waiting.

"Hello again! Batty and… Jeffrey, am I right?" Collin threw them a megawatt smile. "Sure is a small town, isn't it? What can I get for you?"

They ordered two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and two blueberry scones for themselves before deciding to take away four strawberry scones and three cheese buns. Collin obliged, but not before forcing them to try the bakery's signature mint brownies.

"On the house," he insisted, "And you're going to eat it and tell everyone how amazing it is. Not that everyone doesn't already know it; these mint brownies are famous all over Cornwall. Here, I'll even pack a small box to take home."

So they thanked him and then sat down to eat in a cosy little corner as the delicious smells of spices and berries wafted around the air. Batty and Jeffrey watched, raptured, as tray after tray popped out of the oven to produce crispy golden bread. They talked and laughed about Batty's new piano lessons and Jeffrey gave her even more advice about music theory, taking in turns to tear off a hunk of pastry and drop it under the table for Hound to gobble up. Collin _was _right about the mint brownies – they were incredibly mouth-watering and left Batty and Jeffrey craving for so much more they very nearly ate the ones they were supposed to bring home.

As they were about to leave, Collin asked them where they were going. Once he heard that they were leaving to visit Bessie, he quickly retrieved a plastic bag full of chopped up maize and carrots from the fridge before handing it to Batty.

"I was going to go there myself but I've got to work an extra shift today," he informed her. "Feed her for me, will you?"

Batty nodded fervently and clutched the bag tightly. "Thank you." Jeffrey patted him on the back, since it was an unspoken universal rule that males had to be masculine and abrupt when thanking each other.

"He's not going to give up easily," Batty told Jeffrey as they headed off to the farm with multiple bags and Hound in tow.

"What do you mean?"

"Collin. He's not going to give up on Skye. He's going to keep on trying."


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings, lovely readers of mine. Thank you so much for the reviews - all of them literally made my day and I can't believe how supportive all of you are being - even the Skyffrey shippers! Because of that, there ****_will _****be a hint of Skyffrey in the next chapter even though they will not be paired in this story. I'm slipping that in just for you lovely Skyffrey supporters! Also, thanks for the warm response to Collin - he will definitely be playing a big part in this fic - wink wink HINT HINT.**

**Just another note: I've changed all of the chapter titles (the previous ones were temporary holders) so feel free to check them out.**

**Disclaimer: As always, all rights go to Jeanne Birdsall.**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

_Jane Decides She Likes The Smell Of Bread_

Jane threw her pen down onto the desk jubilantly. "It is done! At long last; Sabrina Starr has risen out of the sooty ashes to re-materialise as a luminous phoenix!"

She looked at the notebook she held in her hands reverently. Finally, after three years of scribbling short stories and anecdotes here and there in between essays for Ms Bunda (essays that had very nearly killed her), Sabrina Starr had beaten the odds – once again – to star in the eighth book of the glorious series.

The plot, although yet to be outlined, would come to her author's brain soon. As of now Jane had already penned the first chapter and knew exactly where she was going with this story.

Unless a severe case of writer's block hit her in the head, nothing would cease Jane's progress on this book. Nothing. Eight was a good number and it balanced all of her novels.

Her plot?

_Adrenaline pumping through her veins, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on her brow, Lucy-May stuffed her meagre belongings into a leather sack. In went her few changes of clothes, her fleece, her grandmother's music box. It was time to leave. She stopped in front of the money bowl abruptly. Inside its metal shell were enough shillings to keep her going for at least three months. Madame Ju-Ju would not miss it; Lucy-May had seen her mistress count her treasures by the waxy candle every night with her own eyes. She stretched out a hand hesitantly. The clinking of coins had never sounded so alluring. They were only a hair's breath away – if she could just –_

_"What do you think you're doing?" Lucy-May spun around in a hasty whirl, chest heaving. Standing at the doorway of the tent was Master Alexander._

_"Nothing, sir. Nothing. I was just cleaning up for the Madame." Lucy-May discreetly pocketed the fistful of coins._

_"If you truly were cleaning up for the Madame, you would not look so stricken," Master Alexander drawled. He stepped closer. "Of course, my presence does justify your reaction," he breathed. Lucy-May steeled herself from flinching. "I _could_ turn a blind eye. We could forget whatever you were doing and begin a new chapter, right here..." Master Alexander cornered her into a table. Something poked Lucy-May in the back. She blindly grasped the object. It was a candelabra, and a heavy one too._

_"No one will ever know. No one will ever find out," the disgusting man leered into her ear. "What do you think of it, princess?"_

_"Why," Lucy-May said coyly, "That sounds – HORRIBLE!" With all of the force she could muster, she brought the candelabra down onto Master Alexander's head. He crumpled to the ground. By the time the circus guards arrived, Lucy-May was nowhere to be seen._

_Lucy-May died that day. Like a Phoenix, from her ashes rose a new form, one that went by the name of Ember Rose. She began a new life as a free spirit, gallivanting across foreign lands, looting the rich and feeding the poor. Ember Rose was now a gypsy and she was the leader of them all. She had the crudest men eating from her hands, the most corrupt politicians twisted around her finger. How, you may ask? Well, there was this little method that went by the name of blackmail… _

_Until one night. Until one night when her world as she knew it was flipped upside down. That night, everything changed. That night, a cloaked figure showed up outside her caravan. _

_That night, Sabrina Starr paid a visit._

"A solid beginning." Jane was satisfied. She patted herself on the back before ripping the page out of her notebook. "Containing just the right amount of suspense with the fleeting dash of mystery sprinkled in, this prologue will hook the reader and leave him or her wanting more, thus compelling said reader to turn the page. I must find a test subject for an unbiased opinion." She pushed the chair back and stretched, feeling a joint or two pop back into place. She considered loosening her hands but decided not to. Only Skye cracked her knuckles and Jane hated the sound – it gave her unpleasant goose bumps. Speaking of Skye...

No. Not Skye, for she would only scoff at her draft. Then she would demand an explanation on why Jane had been inspired by the next door gypsy girl whom she hadn't even seen in person, let alone met yet. Jane stroked her chin as she left her bedroom. Jeffrey and Rosalind would tell her they liked it – and they did, most of the time – but even if they didn't they would pretend they did on order to encourage her. They were great for when Jane needed self-esteem boosters, but not today. Today she required someone who would tell her exactly what they thought, exactly what was on their mind.

Tommy? No, he'd just stare at her blankly and question why she'd willingly do extra writing when she could be doing football squats outdoors. Jane slid her hand down the staircase banister, heading downstairs. How about Batty? She _had _been surprisingly clear and perceptive lately. Yes, maybe she would read her draft to Batty.

No one was in the living room. She _had _slept in late this morning. Fine then. She opened the door and yelped as a fist nearly rapped her face. Jane shielded her face as an instant protective reflex like anyone in her situation would. Was the sight of her so frightening the visitor had to punch her?

… The thought of that was quite hurtful and she'd rather not have another swollen bloody nose after the Dominic incident, thank you.

"Sorry! Frightfully sorry, I was just about to knock the same time you opened the door..." Jane slowly brought her hands down to meet concerned eyes.

"Oh, hi, Collin!" Jane beamed at the gangly teenager who, in turn, returned the favour. "What are you doing here? And what happened to your cap?" He was still wearing his suspenders, thank goodness. Jane somehow felt that Collin wouldn't _be _Collin without his quirky sense of style.

"Thought I'd pay a friendly visit. I have more mint brownies. The cap's for milk deliveries only; it makes me feel more authentic." He handed over a box which Jane received gratefully. She tried to refrain from ripping the cover off to taste the gooey heaven that lay underneath.

"Thank you! All of us are addicted to it now, thanks to you. Even Hound. Then again, Hound eats anything so it wasn't much of a surprise when three of them went missing. He ate our map during the summer we met Jeffrey. Here, come on in. I have no idea where everyone else is." She opened the door and widened the gap, letting Collin step in. They plopped down onto the plaid couch and Jane set the box on the coffee table.

"Huh. Nothing's changed since Mr and Mrs Callaghan last invited me in. That's good; none of you are tearing apart their house."

Jane threw her head back and laughed. Just the thought of any of her sisters, Tommy or Jeffrey being tough and unruly cracked her up. It just didn't compute. "I don't think any of us are rebellious enough to do that. Even Skye wouldn't, and she's the hottest tempered out of –"

She stopped. She was speaking the truth, yet she felt like she shouldn't be saying that. That was weird – Jane normally spoke her mind without hesitation. Was this because of Collin's attraction towards her sister?

Collin looked back at her, confused.

If it even was an attraction. Sure, he'd winked at her openly, but it wasn't like he had made it very clear. Maybe the wink had been misunderstood. Maybe the wink had been directed at Batty, because he'd just told her about Bessie the cow. Or maybe the wink had been directed at Rosalind – she still was the prettiest Penderwick sister. (Tommy wouldn't be happy about that. He got very possessive whenever any guy tried to hit on Rosalind.) Maybe it was just how Collin was – he probably winked at everyone as a friendly aspect of his personality.

Maybe, just maybe, the wink had been for Jane. She _had _been standing right beside Skye. Not that she was interested. She just thought Collin was interesting. She _found _him interesting; she wasn't _interested _in him. Okay, finding him interesting meant she _was _interested in him, just not interested in him _romantically –_

Jane quickly snapped herself out of it. She had probably been gaping unattractively at Collin during her mind babble. "Anyway. Are you a vivid reader, Collin? Do you like getting lost in the midst of pages, stepping into the lands of another world?" Maybe Jane could use himas her unbiased test reader.

"I read Huckleberry Finn for my fourth grade English project," Collin offered. "And I read Treasure Island on my own."

Jane felt incredulous. "Just two –? Never mind. Would you like to be my test audience for my new novel? You'd be the first hear it."

Collin's eyes widened. "Sure! I'd be honoured to." He noticed the paper Jane was still clutching. "Read away."

Jane cleared her throat and began. She finished after a few minutes.

"Is that it?" Collin asked. "Yeah," Jane said bashfully. "It's just a bit, really; it's the prologue. I started this morning –"

"You can't leave me hanging like that!" Collin protested. "Who's Sabrina Starr? Where did Lucy-May run off to? What's going to happen to Ember Rose?"

A warm, tingly feeling spread from her chest. "You liked it?" Jane hadn't read any excerpts from her novels to anyone outside her family ever since Dull Depressing Disgusting Dexter Dupree shot down all of her hard work.

(She later felt better when her father told her Dexter's publishing profession only extended as far as a car magazine entitled 'Lines on the Road'. Talk about being _punny._)

Collin stared at her again, this time as if she had grown an extra head. Jane tugged at her hair consciously. Nope, no extra tendrils dangling from another head. "Of course I did! You're a really good author, Jane. Is this your first novel?"

"No, it's the eighth book in the series. The Sabrina Starr series - she's the heroine I created. Not that I've only written eight books. I've written a play about the Aztecs that was turned into the end of the year school production and other anecdotes –"

"Golly, your play was turned into a school production? Your teachers must have liked it – I wish _I _could have half your writing skills. Why do you need me as your test audience when you're already so experienced?" Collin grinned.

That did it. Jane couldn't stand how sweet Collin was being to her. She launched herself into his arms, nearly fainting because he smelled like crusted bread and warm spices. "Thanks, Collin. No one's ever been so nice and honest about my work before."

Collin hugged her back. "Just telling the plain truth. Can I hear more of this story when you've finished it?"

Jane smiled at him warmly. "Definitely."

She wouldn't just read more of it to him. She'd make sure to dedicate it to him when she was done.

* * *

Tommy pushed the trolley along. Chug, chug, chug. The left wheel squeaked as he veered sharply into a different aisle.

"A bit of oil would do it good," Tommy said aloud. "Huh?" Jeffrey looked up from the shopping list. "The left wheel of this cart." "Oh."

Skye and Batty were in a different section of the market, looking for a new leash for Hound. His old one had snapped yesterday and Rosalind didn't trust Hound enough to go without one, thus the makeshift rope Tommy fashioned that was currently holding Hound to the post outside.

Rosalind. Tommy couldn't help but feel ecstatic whenever he thought of his girlfriend. His _girlfriend._ He even got thrilled just by that label that signified she was _his. _

They'd grown up as childhood friends, both their families running in and out of each other's houses like it was nothing. And it _was_ nothing – that was how close-knit their families were. Tommy had always thought Rosalind was pretty but he hadn't started _noticing _it until they were both twelve. That was one of the most agonising years of his life – he had no idea what to do with his newly discovered crush, his older brother figured it out the minute he saw Tommy acting awkward – heck, even _Jane _gave him a talk on how he should just suck up his courage and ask Rosalind out.

After a few thickly complicated weeks consisting of failed attempts at asking Rosalind out for a football drill and Trilby Ramirez taking a sudden interest in him for some bizarre reason, Tommy and Rosalind stopped talking. That was horrible and he _hated_ how they ignored each other. Then one night changed it all – one night with a spectacled retard, stolen research and a football.

(Of course, he was smart enough to break things off with Trilby before that one night. He thanked his lucky stars every night that he did.)

Tommy had never liked Trilby Ramirez. Her voice was high-pitched and squeaky and he didn't like her black hair. He had nothing against black hair – he really didn't, hey, Collin the milk delivery guy had black hair and he was fine with it – he just didn't like _her _black hair. Maybe it was because her black hair was so _long. _Too long. It went to her hips, for instance. How did she never get caught in it when she performed her many gymnastic tricks? She never did seem to tie her hair when Tommy was around…

The only reason Tommy let her take him to the Autumn Extravaganza was because some delusional part of his mind thought it would make Rosalind jealous.

Trilby became exceedingly annoying. She called him _multiple _times every night – not once every night, _multiple times. _She came to all of his soccer practices to cheer him on. Her shrill _"Go, Tommy, go!"_ cries irritated and distracted him so much he would fumble and do something embarrassing like trip or let go of the ball until he missed the easy goal that he normally scored. Her _"You're the best!" _proclamation once caused him to fall flat on his face. Falling flat on your face is bad enough, but during soccer it's a death wish. Ten other bulky shoulder padded players _will _crash onto you _and_ flatten you into a pancake.

Rosalind, if possible, only seemed to get more and more perfect every day they dated. She wasn't just a pretty face – oh, no. She was smart and funny and wouldn't tolerate it if anyone dared to lift a finger on her family. She played basketball so well she _creamed _him every time, and to any sane guy in the world, there is nothing sexier than a girl who rocks at basketball.

Plus, every time Rosalind kissed him, Tommy forgot his name, which was a bonus.

Tommy had no idea how he had managed to keep such a beautiful girl for four and a half years. Tommy also had no idea what he would do if said beautiful girl were to break it off.

"You're thinking of Rosalind again, aren't you?" Jeffrey broke into his musings.

Tommy felt offended. "What do you mean _again – _oh, cereal. It's on the list, right?"

Jeffrey grabbed two boxes of Cheetos and tossed them into the cart. "This isn't the first time, Tommy; every time you think of her you space out and get this goofy grin."

"I do not," Tommy said weakly. He knew Jeffrey was right, of course, but he would never admit it. Macho pride and all that.

"Tomato sauce," Jeffrey read out. He swiped it from the shelf and checked its handwritten tag. "Don't you think this market is cool? I mean, compared to the ones back where we're from with the fluorescent lights and metal shelves, this is a big turnaround."

"Definitely," Tommy agreed. "It's all organic and green." The market here in Avondale was half indoors, half outdoors with wooden displays and handmade signs. Actual vendors manned their own booths, hollering out their prices and declaring their products.

Everything was fresh – maybe a bit _too _fresh. Tommy wrinkled his nose as the pungent smell of fish entered his nostrils.

Skye and Batty popped up, waving a shiny electric blue leash. "What's left on the list?" Skye asked. She nudged Jeffrey in the ribs until he grudgingly handed it over.

"Tommy!" Tommy quickly shifted his attention to Batty. "Yeah?"

"Look, those are lilies." Batty plucked one from the flower section and sniffed it. Tommy felt uncomfortable. So what? Sure, they were nice flowers.

"That's great, Batty," Tommy said nicely.

Batty sighed and spoke to Tommy as if _he _was the eight year old. "Tommy, Rosalind likes lilies."

Skye chortled. So did Jeffrey.

"I knew that," Tommy nodded. Of course he knew Rosalind's favourite flower. Although he didn't like the story that came along with it. Rosalind hadn't elaborated much about lilies, but he could tell that every time she saw them she remembered a pond incident with Cagney.

How he hated that guy. What was so attractive about a Red Sox cap? Tommy bet that he would look just as good – if not better – in said baseball cap. And Tommy certainly wasn't going to become a history teacher – he was going to become a pilot. Pilots needed to speak many languages, which was why he already had English, Russian and French under his belt. He was even picking up some Latin from Mr Penderwick and Rosalind. Oh, and Anna.

Didn't the magazine Nick had tossed at him a few weeks ago mention that ladies loved a man who spoke many languages? Take that, Cagney-the-Red-Sox-cap-wearing-history-teacher.

Batty gave him a patient but slightly peeved look. "Tommy, you're taking Rosalind on a walk later on, right? _You_ _should give her some lilies_," Batty enunciated each word painstakingly.

Skye and Jeffrey were full-out laughing now.

"_Oh._ Right. Thanks, Batty." Tommy snagged a bunch and handed it to the amused florist who wrapped it up in brown paper. He handed over a few bills and carefully stuck the flowers into the baby seat of the trolley.

He hoped Rosalind wouldn't guess that Batty had told him to get the lilies so he could get a thank you kiss.

* * *

"I'm going out," Rosalind yelled. She tugged her Wellingtons on snugly before making her way down the footpath that led into the forest.

Tommy, Jeffrey, Skye and Batty had headed out to the grocery market in Avondale. Rosalind hoped they didn't forget to get the new leash for Hound. Jane was snoring away into her duvet the last time she checked.

A few days had passed since they had arrived. All of them were still trying to get to know the place and the people. However, besides Collin's friendly drop-ins and his milk deliveries, no one had really approached them. Even the villagers remained polite but distant. What Iantha had mentioned on the phone last night seemed to be true: the residents in Cornwall mostly kept to themselves.

Rosalind hummed the tune of her mother's favourite rainy day song as she sloshed through the puddles. It had drizzled through the night, making Cornwall's normally cool atmosphere slightly chilly. She smiled to herself, looking forward to the long, private walk Tommy had promised to take her on in the evening. She'd wear the yellow dress that made Anna's mouth drop open when she came out of the shop's dressing room after trying it on.

She passed by a creek and watched as the water ran over the rocks, seeming to sing its own gurgling song. It was so clear she could see fish darting in between the pondweed. Rosalind dipped her hand in, relishing the feeling of clean water.

A curious robin chirped on its branch, puffing out its red breast proudly. Its beady eyes glinted at her. Rosalind held out her hand, extending two fingers. "Hello."

The robin flew away. Rosalind felt silly. It wasn't like she was Snow White or any other Disney princess who never failed to have an uncanny connection with forest creatures – seriously, it was like an unspoken requirement if you ever wanted to become a Disney princess – so of course the robin wouldn't magically land onto her outstretched hand.

Or maybe it was because she didn't have anything to tempt that robin. Birdseed was always good.

Rosalind stood up and continued to tread through the forest. She reached a clearing and stopped in surprise, for she was not alone. A girl with wavy hair the shade of caramel – down to her elbows – stood on her tiptoes as she tied a ribbon around the branches of a tree. A flowing skirt reached her ankles, exposing her bare feet.

Only a gypsy would go barefoot in the forest. This must be the girl Skye had mentioned on the first day.

"Hello," Rosalind said. The girl turned around. She was extremely pretty, Rosalind noticed. The thin braids and beads twisted into her loose hair made her look like a runaway princess.

"Hi." One corner of the girl's lips tugged up. "Collin mentioned there were six of you."

Rosalind nodded. "You must be Nova. I'm Rosalind; pleased to meet you." She thrust her hand out, because, gypsy or not, Nova had given one of her sisters helpful advice, therefore making her a good person.

For now.

Nova took her hand briefly before resuming her task. Upon close inspection, Rosalind realised the tree already had ribbons of other colours secured firmly around its boughs. Most of them were faded and worn. A few of them were so shredded they hung by a single thread.

"It's a wishing tree," Nova told Rosalind, somehow sensing her curiosity. "Each ribbon represents a wish. The others before me… some of them didn't leave just a strip of cloth."

She was right. Rosalind could make out scrolls of half-furled paper, ink blots marring the parchment. Letters. She spotted wilted flower bunches, photographs, a forlorn teddy bear, even. Somehow, it felt wrong to be looking at them – almost as if Rosalind was intruding on someone's privacy.

"I decorate it," Nova said simply. "The wind-chimes, the coloured foil. It makes the people who stop by feel more at peace, knowing someone's taking care of their wishes."

"That's really great." And Rosalind meant it. Before she knew what she was doing, she was bending down and gathering a makeshift bouquet of daisies.

Nova wordlessly accepted it and, just like that, Rosalind ended up helping her decorate the wishing tree. They even twined a long daisy chain and draped it across one of the thickest boughs.

By the time they had finished, Rosalind knew that at least an hour had passed by.

"It's been so quiet in Cornwall," Rosalind confided. "No one but Collin has tried to befriend us. The villagers stick to their own businesses and don't even acknowledge us unless it's about a bargain."

"That's because you were talking to the wrong people." This time, Nova gave Rosalind a smile – a proper one. "Welcome to Tanglewood."


	5. Chapter 5

**I thought that I'd answer some of you amazing people out there who decided to take the time to leave a review. **

**km28ave: Glad you like this story! Hmm... Jeffrey getting jealous? I'll definitely consider that.**

**Reflections of Twilight: Really? Heh, never thought that my story could send out vibes. Yeah, the fuzzy Penderwick charm is something I try really hard to incorporate because I know how nice it is when you finally find a fic that suits your feels. So thanks for that compliment! Yes, I did hear about the fourth book - I've visited her website a few times. I can't wait for it - I wonder whether it'll be set in Gardam Street again or another holiday?**

**StardustTARDIS: Thank YOU so much for being one of the loyal reviewers who stuck around from the beginning. I'm really glad you like Nova and Collin!**

**PartyCat77: Yeah, you feel me. You just - get exactly what I was trying to explain. PM me about your fic once you get started, I'll make sure to drop by and give it a read.**

**Jane: YOU are another reader who stayed with this from the beginning. THANK YOU. Enjoy the dash of Skyffrey I promised!**

**BabyBubble262: Thank you for your multiple reviews! I feel so happy that you enjoy this.**

**sky in her eyes: Woah, that's a big compliment that I don't think I deserve but still put a big smile on my face anyway. Thank you so much, and you WILL be receiving lots of notifications.**

**Thank you to all of the guests who left a review - your reviews matter just as much as the other members of FanFiction. Stay tuned for more chapters! **

**Don't scroll down just yet! I have a question for you guys and I'd like answers! **

**Which actor would you pick to represent Collin? I'm curious.**

**OKAY. HAPPY READING.**

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CHAPTER FIVE

_Skye Thanks the Heavens For Disinfectant _

"Get up." A shadow loomed over Skye, obscuring the heavens above.

Skye cracked open an eyelid reluctantly. She _had_ been enjoying a relaxing sunbathe, basking under Cornwall's watery sunshine. "And I'm going to do that _why?"_

"Because I'm awesome and the most epic person you've ever come in contact with," Jeffrey grinned, stretching his arms out widely.

Skye's response was to execute a neat chop to the back of his knees, causing him to fall down.

On top of her.

Skye made a strangled sound – a cross between a pregnant cow giving birth and a stray cat choking on a fish bone. Jeffrey hurriedly rolled off and onto the side to inspect the damage he had inflicted. "Are you okay?"

"What have you been _eating?" _Skye managed as she struggled to get her breath back.

Jeffrey looked hurt. "Are you implying that I'm fat?"

"Of course not, Jeffrey, I was just telling you how good you'll look in heels – what do you think I was implying?" That was better; Skye was no longer wheezing pathetically. "Be careful, you could be on your way to becoming a fat kid."

"We both know that there is not an ounce of fat or cellulite clinging onto my god-worthy chiselled body of marble," Jeffrey said with great dignity. "Come _on,_ get up already. I have something I want to show you."

"If it's a family of moose again, I'll pass," Skye said lazily. "Go find Batty. She's always up for canoodling away with you."

Jeffrey choked. "Skye, the definition of canoodling contains romantic involvement."

"Exactly. She plans on marrying you when she grows up, in case you didn't know that already."

"We're not – she didn't – she told me she wasn't – I'm not a paedophile!"

"Uh huh. And denial is a river in Egypt." Skye brushed her pants off. "I'm up, I'm up. What's so earth-shattering it requires my rapt attention and immediate knowledge of its existence?"

"… I'm feeling bored."

Skye looked at him. "You have ten seconds to tell me what you're going to do about it before I show you how effective dirt can be as a face mask."

"Uh, what I _did_ do about it was to find you so you could think of something fun to do."

"Yeah? Apparently all of that mud opens up your pores."

Jeffrey looked troubled at that prospect. Thankfully for him, he was a quick thinker and could think on his feet.

"Let's go play soccer," Jeffrey grinned. "C'mon, I know you've been ogling the field across the cottage."

Skye nodded. "Worthy answer for an idiot."

"Yet you love me anyway," Jeffrey slung a friendly arm across her shoulder.

Skye rolled her eyes. They sat together in comfortable silence.

"You know it's true, right?" Skye said suddenly, remembering how horrible she had felt watching Jeffrey go through an identity crisis a few years ago after he found out that Alec was his true father. "So do the others. I think even Tommy really likes you."

Jeffrey smiled softly. "Yeah. And I love you. And Jane, and Batty, and Rosalind. I think Tommy and I even have a bromance going on, now that you've brought it up. All those late nights in your dimly lit kitchen, with only each other for company as we had to make do with dinner leftovers to quell our hunger…"

Skye laughed. Then she jerked up and socked Jeffrey in the shoulder. She was Skye Penderwick and she didn't _do _chick flick moments.

"Go retrieve three soccer balls and five cones," she ordered. "I'll go pull Jane out of whatever fantasy land she's in. She needs to work on her left triple kick."

Jeffrey saluted her mockingly before striding off to the back door of the cottage. Tommy had dumped all sports equipment in the shed.

Skye hopped up the front porch and banged her way in. "Jane, get your butt here from wherever you are – yes, both literally and metaphorically, it doesn't matter whether it's a room or your head –"

She stopped short. "Oh," she said stiffly. "I didn't know you were occupied."

Jane and Collin had been in a, ah, _compromising_ position. Whatever. Basically, they had had their arms around each other.

Collin flew back and untangled himself so quickly it was like he was on fast forward. "Skye! Hello, how are you?"

"Just peachy," Skye answered, sarcasm dripping and forming a (metaphoric) puddle. "I'm so peachy I'm nearly salmon. But _please_, don't let me intrude. _Do _continue."

With that, she turned around and headed back the way she came from.

"Skye!" Jane jogged up to her. "Skye, wait. What did you want me for?"

Skye looked at her wondrously. Jane really _was _immune to any form of tension – she was still talking nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

Granted, nothing _had _happened. Hugs weren't that big of a deal – Skye hugged Jeffrey all the time and Tommy occasionally. But seeing her younger sister in the arms of someone she _really _didn't like? Now, that set a flare in her.

Skye didn't really know _why_ she disliked Collin. He hadn't done anything wrong, now that she thought about it. She just couldn't stand him for some concealed, uncharted reason unbeknownst to the universe.

"I was going to ask you to work on your triple left kick with Jeffrey and me."

"Sure!" Jane beamed. "Can Collin come with? Maybe he plays soccer – hey _Collin, _do you play soccer?"

Skye could have throttled her there and then.

Collin came up to them, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "A bit. We call it football here. But I wouldn't want to interrupt anything…"

"Oh, come on," Jane said. "It's no big of a deal, right, Skye?"

Skye softened. A tiny bit. You know, maybe from granite to cement.

So she didn't like Collin. But he was still innocent. She could just treat him politely, distantly, instead of being so mean. "Yeah, sure," Skye replied.

Who knew – maybe Collin could be fantastic at soccer and he could give them some pointers. And, seeing that Jane liked him so much, she would definitely take to heart those pointers and put them to use in the next football game. It would be a win-win situation, wouldn't it? Even Skye could receive benefits – having her top player in great shape, this would guarantee Antonio's Pizza sweeping up more victories. Skye didn't believe in the saying 'anything is possible' – she was a striving mathematician, for goodness' sake, but she certainly did put her faith in millions of other possible outcomes, billions of other probabilities.

Yeah. If only.

It turned out that when Collin said he played a _bit_ of soccer, he really meant _a bit. _He probably even stretched on that little bit. Collin had such basic skills in kicking the ball around it was painful to watch him.

Skye wouldn't have been surprised if Batty proved to be better than him.

Somehow or other, Skye ended up on the same side as Collin when they decided to split into teams of twos in order to start a soccer drill. She gave Jeffrey a tortured look of agony, only to receive an unsympathetic shrug. She didn't bother to waste the same look on Jane. Skye had no choice but to grit her teeth, stick her fingers in her mouth and let loose a shattering whistle to signal the beginning of the workout.

"Go, go, go, go, _go!" _Jane bellowed. Jeffrey returned with a battle cry and swung his leg upward to meet the ball with a powerful kick. Skye snapped to action at once, darting up to him to steal the ball away.

"Guard my left flank!" She yelled in the vague direction of Collin. Skye focused on defending her right side and spun, keeping the ball away from Jeffrey so successfully even _she _knew it was impressive to watch.

All of a sudden, Jane shot up at her left. Her very _empty_ left. Skye could scarcely blink before Jane had triple left kicked the soccer ball and it was soaring towards Jeffrey with a _crack. _

"Score!" Jane and Jeffrey slapped high-fives as the ball made it through the scoring line (a wobbly line drawn through the grass with a stick). "Three points go to Team J!"

"Collin!" Skye stomped her foot. She could _feel_ the steam coming out of her ears. _"You were supposed to guard my left flank!"_

"Sorry," Collin apologised cheerfully – without a single ounce of guilt or embarrassment! "Jane managed to pass by me."

_No, really? Did she? I would never have guessed. _Skye massaged her temples – they were starting to pound, a sure symptom of a migraine coming on, and Skye didn't _get_ migraines. "Let's just – let's go catch up with Jane and Jeffrey."

And so the drill began again. This time, Skye was determined to go solo and not rely on Collin. She was confident in her abilities – she _had _taken on both Jane and Jeffrey countless times and _won _during their many renditions of Piggy in the Middle.

Skye was on fire. Skye was blazing. Skye was smouldering. A millisecond after Jeffrey gave a sharp, shrill whistle; she went straight for the ball with such precision and steely resolve she could see Jeffrey flinching in surprise. Even Jane was stalled, momentarily.

Skye smirked inwardly. Victory was hers. All she needed to do was hurtle the ball past both of them before they recovered. She had this in the bag – parcelled, stamped and _mailed –_

Skye was knocked down.

_What? _Some part of her brain questioned. _What just happened? Why am I lying on top of something warm? What happened to the ball?_

Skye took in a deep breath. She had her hands on someone's chest.

She froze.

"Skye?" Jeffrey's voice floated above her. "Skye, are you alright?"

"Collin?" Jane asked in a worried tone. "Have you been flattened?"

Why did everything smell like the bakery?

"Anyone got a concussion?" Jane waved her hands around. "Hello? Say something, both of you, we're getting worried. Jeffrey, do you think they –

Skye dug her knees into Collin stomach, shaking her curtain of blonde hair out of her face. "You," she spat venomously. She snagged his collar and pulled him up so they were nose to nose. "What did you do?"

Fear crept into the edges of his grey eyes. "I – I was trying to g-guard your left flank," he stammered. "Then… I tripped."

Skye shoved him back down. "Get away from me."

A lazy smirk spread out on Collin's face and he stretched out his arms to tuck them underneath his head – as if he had all the time in the world. "Well, Skye, technically, _you're _the one on top of me, so…"

_"Agh!" _Skye jumped off, shuddering. She strode off and away from the field, ignoring Jeffrey's protests and Jane's insistent questions.

Her brain picked up on insignificant, meticulous details that only made her fume harder. Jane executing a triple left kick when Collin was supposed to be guarding her. _A triple left kick. Exactly _what Skye wanted her to work on; _exactly_ what Skye wanted Jane to improve on. And it had been a _good, solid _one. Collin smelling like bread. _Bread, _of all things! She vaguely remembered Batty mentioning that he worked at a bakery, but still! And then – that _smirk _of his that made her want to bury his face six feet under. To think Skye felt even a smidgen of guilt for _that boy._

She had only one destination in mind: her bathroom in the cottage. There, she could shut the door, twist the lock and bathe with the quiet coolness of the tiles surrounding her. She was going to scrub her skin until every taint, every trace, every blemish of – of _him_ – was gone and vanquished from her being for eternity.

But first of all, she was going to stand under the shower nozzle with cold water splashing down on her and maybe even squirt in some disinfectant while she was at it.

* * *

The phone rang. Batty and Hound bounded to the receiver and she plucked it up. It was a Thursday and Mr Penderwick was ringing them up right on time.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Daddy!" Batty said joyously. Hound wagged his tail and barked, somehow understanding that the magical banana shaped object connected them to his master. He'd tried sniffing it once and had recoiled in disgust. It was cold and too smooth, giving off a strange metallic scent.

Unless… unless it had _trapped _his master _inside? _Was Batty going to be sucked in too? Hound went forward to snag her jeans with his teeth, just to be sure. Just to be on the safe side – SQUIRREL? SQUIRREL.

"Yes, we're all fine. Jeffrey took me to see Bessie the cow yesterday; she's just as sweet as Eleanor and Franklin. We fed her maize and carrots and she nuzzled my hand. We made a new friend Collin – he's the milk delivery boy."

Collin? Hound wondered whether that was the name of the tall boy who was providing them with milk. He was nice and didn't have anything about him that gave off danger – Hound could tell by the steady way his hand had scratched Hound's ears and the trusting way Rosalind treated him.

Hound shifted his attention to the window and paused. He could have _sworn_ he had caught the unmistakable whiff of squirrel…

"How's Ben? I miss him so much, and you and Iantha… No. Yes. Not really… Yes, definitely. Last night Jane cooked us mac and cheese. Rosalind made her brownies for dessert – oh, Daddy, the mint brownies Collin introduced all of us to are so delicious none of us can stop eating them, I'll make sure to bring a box home –"

Hound whined and pawed at the backdoor. Why didn't it have a flap for him to wriggle through like his home back in Gardam Street? He could be chasing a squirrel right now. The squirrels here fascinated him – they were a different colour from the ones he was used to, complete with a different scent. Even their tails were more bushy, more full.

"Of course… Maybe. Okay. I love you, Daddy. Uh huh. Bye."

Hound licked Batty fondly. She absentmindedly ran a hand down his glossy coat. "I wonder what we should do now," she murmured. Hound rubbed his head against her. He adored her to no end, more than any of the other humans he lived with, and loved how she always smelled reassuringly like – well, Batty.

Just then, Rosalind poked her head through the kitchen door. She gave off a scent of trees and earth, making Hound excited at the thought of being outdoors. Had he had his walk already? Maybe he could have another one, sometimes Batty took him out a few times a day. "Batty! There you are. Come on, Jane and Skye are in the master bedroom already. We're having a MOPS meeting."

Batty trailed after her obediently. "Come on, Hound." Hound started to trot after her, only to stiffen abruptly. SQUIRREL. And its scent was powerful, so powerful, the strongest he had ever encountered since he had woken up in this strange place.

Hound burst through the backdoor and into the yard.

* * *

"Order, order," Rosalind rapped her hand against the carpet. That sort of defeated its purpose, though, since all that resounded was a soft _thud. _"MOPS come to order." Batty jumped onto the king-sized bed with Jane and snuggled into the sheets.

"Second the motion," Skye muttered, who was sitting on the floor with Rosalind. Batty wondered why she smelled so clean. It wasn't like Skye was dirty every day – it was just that she seemed _exceptionally _clean today. Her skin was tinged pink as if she had tried to scrub it raw.

Batty frowned. Was that – was that hand sanitizer she smelled? Some sort of bathroom disinfectant, maybe?

"Third it," Jane chirped.

"Fourth it," Batty echoed dutifully.

"Where's Hound?" Jane asked curiously.

"He's chasing a squirrel."

"All swear to keep secret what is said here, unless you think someone might do something truly bad," Rosalind continued.

The girls stacked their fists on top of Rosalind's like they always did in each meeting. "This I swear, by the Penderwick Family Honour." They broke their fists apart.

"What's the news?" Batty asked.

"I went to explore the woods," Rosalind answered, "And I met Nova."

Skye let out a dull groan.

"Ooh!" Jane sat forward at immediately. "I still haven't met this mysterious figure. And I don't know how she looks like because Skye can't be bothered to describe her appearance – well, even if she tried, she wouldn't do a good job since she never notices properly. How does she look like, Rosy?"

So Rosalind told them about Nova, the gypsy girl next door. She described how Nova looked like – long, light brown hair with hazel eyes. She said that Skye was right about how she dressed and that she really did act like a gypsy – although she certainly didn't talk like the locals. Finally, she told them about the wishing tree and how Nova had offered her friendship.

"The wishing tree," Jane sighed. "That's _so_ romantic. I _have _to visit it and tie my own ribbon, leave my own offering…"

"I wonder what happens when it rains," Skye said moodily.

"What's wrong, Skye?" Rosalind asked, concerned. "Did something happen?"

Or more specifically, did something happen with Collin, Batty thought. She had been puzzling over Skye's dark behaviour and had drawn up only one conclusion – Collin must have been the root of her problem, responsible for it somehow.

"Oh, nothing much, really," Skye said airily. "Just a big fat problem that happens to go by the name of Collin."

Batty winced. She was right, unfortunately. But Collin was really nice and he was the only friendly face in Cornwall. Why did Skye dislike him so much?

"He was a bit clumsy at the football drill," Jane relented, leaping up to his defence. "But it wasn't his fault, Skye, just give him a chance."

"Why should I? He keeps turning up like a bad penny bringing bad luck. It's weird enough that he has to dress like an old grandpa! He just _had _to ruin my soccer drill too –"

"That's not very honourable of you, Skye! He didn't ruin the soccer drill; _you_ were the one who stomped off in a tantrum leaving us with an odd number of three. Besides, not every football drill can go perfectly, you know. He doesn't bring bad luck and he _isn't _a bad penny – that was quite mean, might I add – and – and _I _think that his fashion sense is quirky!"

"Oh, of _course_ you'd think that, seeing as both of you were looking _so _cosy together when I wanted to ask you to join Jeffrey and I for a soccer spin –"

_"Order!"_ Rosalind reprimanded. "Skye, Jane, tone _down!_ Calm yourselves, you're not _kids_ anymore!"

Skye and Jane snapped their mouths shut. Batty knew why. No matter how old they were now, and no matter how independent they were as teenagers, Rosalind still held the utmost authority over them. She had the rights and they owed it to her – not only was she the eldest, she was the one who had raised them. It wasn't that Mr Penderwick wasn't a fit father – goodness, no, he was the best father and if he wasn't a fit father, well, Dexter Dupree would be the least smug person in the world – it was that Rosalind had been the one who helped them with girl problems, taught them girl things and _mothered _them.

"Alright," Rosalind said calmly. "Skye, Jane's right, you can't go judging someone so quickly when you barely know them and it _was not _honourable of you to compare Collin to a bad penny – I can tell you as the oldest that he is a very trustworthy boy and he would _never _inflict any harm. Not on purpose, at least. And everyone has their own personality. If Collin wants to dress up like how he dresses, so be it."

Skye deflated. "I know. I know, I was wrong. I can see it now. He just gets on my nerves for reasons I can't even explain. I'll apologise soon and it'll be a genuine one, I promise."

Rosalind smiled at her warmly. "That's it, then. Now, Jane, what did Skye mean about you and Collin being all cosy?"

Jane seemed to take a keen interest on the floor. Batty sharply noted that she was blushing ever so slightly – so slightly Rosalind and Skye didn't realize it. "I daresay, this shag carpeting was done remarkably well – look at the folds and how the red fades into a distant maroon! Why, it's a job well done by whoever laid it down –"

"Jane."

"It was _nothing_," Jane sighed, enunciating her words like she was irritated. "Skye happened to come in and look at it from a wrong angle, alright? I read my draft of the prologue for the newest Sabrina Starr novel – it's going to be a killer, by the way, I can assure you that now – to Collin, and when I was done he said some really nice things about how I had talent and that he wished he could be as gifted as me –" At this, Skye snorted in a very unladylike way. "It's true! If this cottage had security cameras installed you could watch the recording word for word. Anyway, I felt so happy that my prologue received such a good response I gave him a hug."

"So, basically, Skye came in while I was hugging Collin, and I guess according to her _extremely unique point of view, _she thought we were being romantic. Or, in Skye terms and Skye language, _cosy."_

Skye shoved Jane off the bed and she shrieked and pulled her down with her, but it was a friendly one, and soon their spat had been put aside, let go and forgotten. Rosalind smiled fondly before calling for attention again, this time rapping against the bed post for a more effective sound.

"One last thing before this meeting is adjourned and we disperse," she said. "Nova has invited us over to her caravan tomorrow evening. What we're going to do, I don't know, but I think we should all show up. I think she has something planned."

"Even Hound?" Batty checked.

"Even Hound." Rosalind drew her in for a quick hug.

"Can we leave now?" Jane asked. "I'm glad we've sorted everything out, sisters of mine, it really was nothing. Well, Skye did lose her temper but if she didn't the Earth wouldn't spin. It really was nothing on my part, though. I have to go and pen down my first chapter if that's okay –"

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "You may leave the confines of my bedroom and run loose."

As Batty began to search for Hound to make sure he hadn't mauled a squirrel, she pondered over how Jane was acting. It certainly _wasn't _nothing on her part. If it really _had_ been nothing, would Jane have blushed when recounting what had happened with Collin?

No.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! Here's Chapter Six, sorry for the wait. School recently started for me (aren't all of you glad I'm not some creepy old geezer crouched in front of a computer in an Internet cafe?) which is why things got a bit hectic for awhile. Thank you so much for the reviews as usual - they always motivate me to write yet another chapter. I'm not one of those authors who won't write a chapter until the reviews hit a certain number, don't worry; but let me put it this way: the number of reviews and my updating speed are directly proportionate: the more reviews, the faster I update ;)**

**I also realised that I'm having WAY too much fun delving into Tommy's mind to write in his point of view. Seriously. I get such a kick in doing so it's like my de-stressing go to. **

**Question of this update: in a perfect universe where these three subjects existed and were single, who would you rather date - Jeffrey, Tommy or Collin? :D**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall. **

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

_Rosalind Shoots Sparks From Her Eyes _

Tommy nervously adjusted his hair. It seemed alright – it was nowhere as messy as Jeffrey's in its natural state, but it didn't seem to _look _right tonight. He groaned and threw his brush down onto the floor. He didn't even _own _a brush; this was Jeffrey's (who actually _needed_ it for his dishevelled hair). He hadn't even been introduced to the concept of brushing hair until he had started dating Rosalind.

The things Rosalind made Tommy do!

(Let's make a list, shall we? Brushing his hair, flossing his teeth, using aftershave, picking up after himself at home because she liked visiting him in his bedroom…)

One would think that after nearly four years of dating, Tommy would be pretty comfortable and used to going out with his girlfriend. But _no, of course that wasn't the case; _every time they agreed on a date Tommy would receive a visit from a very familiar friend of his – anxiety.

What if Tommy made a fool of himself? Would Rosalind break up with him there and then, in front of a booing crowd that threw tomatoes at him? Red was _not_ his colour, he'd look horrible with red splats all over his shirt. Now, _blue _was more along his comfort zone, more of his drift – according to his mom, it brought out his eyes.

Okay, he sounded really girly just _thinking_ that.

What if the date went without a hitch but Tommy accidentally ate onions and had onion breath as Rosalind leaned in for the goodnight kiss? Tommy frantically made a mental note _not _to order anything with onions in it.

What if something happened to Rosalind? Tommy paled as visions of Rosalind breaking a limb or being knocked down by a hazardous vehicle flashed through his brain. Oh, wow, Mr Penderwick would _murder _him if Rosalind even got a tiny paper cut… He'd chop him up into pieces, boil him, glue him back together to kill him again, stick him into spikes, burn him at the stake, push him off a building, poison his food, strangle him in his sleep – not necessarily in that order, of course, because _duh, _naturally he'd stick him into spikes first.

Tommy's mind swirled with what ifs and they whirled round and round, chasing each other like a twisted game of tag.

Someone knocked on his door. "Come in," Tommy answered, frantically tugging on his socks. At least Rosalind never had a problem with how he dressed.

Unless she did. Was she laughing behind his back every time he wore his beat-up sneakers with his Super Mario socks? Hey, it wasn't his fault that he still had a soft spot for Yoshi! The lovable green dinosaur had always been his favourite character ever since he was little. Tommy remembered how he would wrestle with Nick for the controller just so he could select Yoshi as his player.

(Playing Mario Kart Racing with Nick was humiliating, because if you lost three games in a row you had to choose Princess Peach as your player and you couldn't change her until you won.)

Was she relaying every embarrassing fashion choice he made back to Anna? He knew he never should have trusted Anna! She was always whispering in Rosalind's ear every single time he came around, smiling that mischievous pixie smile of hers that always made him feel like she knew exactly what buttons to push in order to blackmail him –

Batty darted in swiftly and closed his bedroom door in one fluid motion.

"Brush," she ordered.

Tommy handed over the brush.

Batty began to tease his hair and brush parts of it down. Tommy didn't question her – she was one of the scariest eight year olds when she wanted to be. Sure, she was still really cute when she asked for a piggyback ride for old times' sake, or when he agreed to play a game with her and Hound, but nowadays she was so smart it terrified him.

(Then again, anyone smart terrified Tommy.)

(Shut up, subconscious Tommy, you're not helping.)

"Now," Batty said, "I want you to forget all of the bad things that could happen on this date that you've been imagining in your head."

How did she –? Never mind. "Okay."

"And I want you to stop biting your nails. Rosalind _hates _bitten nails and she thinks they're disgusting."

Tommy stopped chewing on his cuticles.

"Finally, I want you to stop tapping your left foot. It's annoying."

Tommy ceased from fidgeting.

"Done," Batty announced. She stuck both of her hands into his scalp and messed his hair up, completely destroying whatever progress she had previously made.

"What? But – but didn't you just style it with Jeffrey's brush –?"

"Your hair looks best when it's normal."

"I – how would you – okay."

"Now pick up your lilies and go," Batty ordered.

Tommy grabbed them from the bedside table before turning back to give her an affectionate squeeze. "Thanks, Batty," Tommy said gratefully.

Batty smiled back at him angelically. "No problem. Oh, and there's an underwear sticking out from your back pocket."

* * *

Skye muttered a mantra to herself as she marched across the village lane and its uneven pebbled road. "You will get this over and done with. You will get this over and done with. You will get this over and done with. You will get this over and done with…"

Skye wondered whether this was how Jane felt when she had to apologise to Jeffrey on Skye's behalf so many years ago. Suddenly, she felt ashamed, realising that she had been too cowardly to apologise to him herself.

To think that a bull nearly goring Batty had brought them together!

(But shh, Rosalind still didn't know head or tail about this incident.)

Skye didn't believe in psyching herself out before she was supposed to present her case. She was so headstrong she managed to shove all of her doubtful thoughts into an unwanted box in the furthest recess of her mind.

Well, most of the time. Sometimes it didn't work as well as she hoped and those slimy, hesitant thoughts would crawl right out of that carton and latch onto her willpower, causing her initial confidence to waver.

Thankfully, now wasn't one of those times. Skye forged ahead fearlessly, following the sign that pointed to the bakery. She trudged in with purpose in her step before halting at the counter.

"Hi," Skye said to the bustling woman behind the counter. "Is Collin here on his shift? I'd like to speak to him, please."

The woman scarcely looked up from the dough she was vigorously flattening with a rolling pin. "Collin!" She hollered, reaching for a sprinkling jar. "A girl wants to see yeh, lad, she wants to talk to yeh about somethin'!"

"Alright, Mam, I'm coming!" Sure enough, he emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. Skye noticed that he had flour dusting the tips of his hair.

He stopped when he saw Skye, eyeing her warily. "Hello," he said.

Skye forced a smile. He had every right to be cautious around her, she reminded herself. "Can I talk to you outside?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Mam, I won't be five minutes."

Mam began to knead the dough forcefully. "Yes, yes, go on. Just don't let me catch both of yeh sucking each other's lips off after five minutes, yeh hear?"

Collin tossed the dirty rag down. "Aw, come now, Mam, you know there's only one woman in my heart and that's you," he teased.

"Bloody teenagers," Skye heard Mam mumble, but she could tell that she was smiling slightly.

Collin held the door open for Skye and they stepped out of the warm air of the bakery. They stood around at the entrance awkwardly.

"Okay," Skye began. She jumped right into it. "I know I was a horrible person to you from the first time we met and I was even more ghastly at the football drill. I have no excuses or explanations for myself and for that, I'm sorry."

Collin grinned easily. "Okay. Apology accepted."

Skye felt surprised. "That's it? If I were in your position I wouldn't have been so quick to forgive myself."

"Well." Collin shrugged. "It's not every day a pretty girl comes to you and apologises."

Skye raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"Yes, really," Collin nodded. "And I can tell that you feel undeniably attracted to me as well. You know, if you asked me out, maybe I'd say yes. Only if I was in a good mood and if you used the right words, of course…"

Skye laughed. "Fat chance, Collin, in your dreams."

"Precisely. In my dreams, you always do exactly that."

"How about we try being friends first?" Skye suggested. "I _think _I could handle that. Just barely."

"Alright. Let's start over." Collin bowed cheekily. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Skye Penderwick. I'm Collin O'Brien, supreme baker assistant, foremost milk delivery boy, jack of all trades, master of many talents. I have a thing for blondes."

"Sure. I'm Skye Penderwick. I excel in football, unlike you, and I'm very proficient in advanced geometry. Also, I do _not, _I quote, 'have a thing' for freakishly tall, suspender-snapping, curly haired boys."

Collin shook his head in mock despair, placing a hand over his heart. "Shame. And I was already naming our firstborn."

"… That's actually really creepy."

"You'll get used to it. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"I think you should go now. I don't want Mam to think we're eating each other's faces off."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Whatever, Collin. I'll see you around, I guess." Skye gave him a tentative smile.

"Well, Skye, you know who to come to if you ever change your mind. After all, I'm rolling in the dough."

Skye shuddered. "That was so corny it was painful to my ears, Collin."

"I try."

"Goodbye. I don't want to get you fired."

"That's sweet, so you _do _care about me!"

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but actually… I don't. Now go back inside. Goodbye." Skye turned and started to walk away.

She could still feel his gaze on her. Alright then. That meant he was going to say something in T-minus five, four, three, two, one…

"And if you ever need help with warming your milk up, I'm your guy!"

* * *

Tommy waited at the cottage door with the bunch of lilies behind his back. He and Rosalind had agreed to be ready by five, and it was four fifty-nine. He looked at the face of his watch, listening to the seconds ticking by.

Someone cleared their throat.

He looked up and he was pretty sure his eyes bulged out of his sockets. Oh, and his mouth probably dropped to the ground with a loud clang. Did he mention that he had turned into a puddle of goo?

Let him just put it this way: Rosalind could clean up very nicely.

She was wearing this yellow dress that made her skin glow like a goddess, and Tommy thought that she had never looked more beautiful. His girlfriend looked like a million dollars.

She breezed by him and looked back. "Aren't you coming?"

"Uh hur duh."

Rosalind laughed. "Right back at you."

Tommy tried again. "Hur guh – here." He handed her the lilies shyly.

Rosalind's face lit up. "Thank you, Tommy! These are gorgeous."

Tommy finally found his voice. "Not as gorgeous as you," he said smoothly.

Rosalind blushed. Heh. He was back in control.

She took his arm and they started their walk. They agreed to go to town first, maybe grab a bite, before walking back to the cottage through the fields.

He told her how Batty had helped him get ready and she didn't hesitate to laugh at him. She told him about their next door neighbour Nova who was apparently a gypsy girl they were supposed to meet the next day. He told her about how he and Jeffrey both shared a love for Cheetos, especially at midnight. She told him about Skye and Collin and that she thought Skye was a bit too independent for her own good. Then they simply walked in silence, enjoying the company they had. Rosalind tucked her head into his shoulder.

"Where do you want to eat?" Tommy asked, proudly noting that the bracelet he had bought for her was dangling from her left wrist. Ever since he'd gotten it for her at the airport, she hadn't failed to wear it every day.

Tommy liked that. It was like his mark on her to show other guys that she was taken.

"I feel like trying something local," Rosalind replied. "How about the one over there with the seafood specials? You did mention that everything is really fresh here, so the seafood must be great…"

"Sure," Tommy said easily. "Let's go take a seat, then." He opened the door and waited (see, Jane, chivalry _wasn't _dead and he _was _a gentleman) before going in himself. They chose a booth in the centre. All of the seats were modelled after the style of wooden canoes and the entire restaurant had a homely atmosphere. Framed pictures of the ocean, grappling lines and buckets hung from the walls. There was even a chandelier made out of fishing hooks, which Tommy thought was pretty cool.

"Good evening," a girl with flaming red hair and pale skin glided over to their table. She whipped out a notepad. "I'm Emily, and I'll be your waitress tonight. Have you decided on what you'll have?" She smiled at Tommy.

"Uh, I'll have the prawn basket with the mashed potatoes," Tommy decided. "And the smoked salmon – extra-large please – with grilled vegetables on the side. Oh, and I'll get the clam chowder. No onions." Tommy was _not _going to risk stinky breath. Nope, nuh uh.

"Big appetite, I see," Emily's eyes twinkled. "You know, I like guys who eat a lot. It means they're strong, but sensitive, with a big heart…"

Tommy smiled at her uneasily. Was she flirting with him? He was kind of scared. If the Trilby fiasco had anything to say about him, he was really bad at rejecting girls.

"I'll have the fried cod with coleslaw," Rosalind interrupted. Emily reluctantly turned her attention on her, noting the order down.

"Drinks?" Emily asked.

"Two Cokes."

"Alright. Let me just repeat your orders. One prawn basket with mashed potatoes, one extra-large smoked salmon with grilled vegetables, one clam chowder, hold the onions. One fried cod with coleslaw and two Cokes."

Tommy and Rosalind nodded. Emily lingered at their table as if she wanted to say something. Tommy caught Rosalind's eyes narrowing, lighting up with some sort of emotion he couldn't identify. Uh oh. That was never good. He had learned to expect the unexpected whenever any of the Penderwick sisters got that hardened look.

The next thing he knew, all he could feel was Rosalind's lips against his. She kissed him so hotly he could barely keep up. He responded eagerly and cupped her face, slightly surprised at how flared up this particular kiss was.

Was it to thank him for the lilies?

Then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Tommy sat back with a dazed expression. Emily was still there, and she was scowling. Rosalind turned to her, seeming astonished that she was still beside them.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" Rosalind asked icily. "Because if you didn't, _hon,_ I'd like for my _boyfriend _and Ito have our food soon."

Emily huffed and stomped off, her heels clicking behind her wake. Tommy stared at Rosalind wondrously with the same reverence as if she had been the genius who invented the Internet.

Man, his girlfriend was _smoking _when she got jealous.

* * *

"Jane!"

"What is it?" She shouted. Instead, all that came out of her mouth was "Whaffishhrit?" because of the many bobby pins clenched between her teeth.

"Everyone's waiting for you!"

Jane moaned exasperatedly, slamming her hairbrush down onto the dressing table. Consequently, it rattled from the impact, spewing a few hair ties onto the floor. "Sorry!" Jane patted its drawer top as a form of consolation, feeling bad. She hastily checked her reflection, spat out the clips and thundered downstairs.

"What took you so long?" Skye asked. Jane understood – she was usually the second fastest to get ready after Skye. Batty would then follow, and Rosalind would be the last.

(The boys' speed, Jane learned, was affected by whether they were having a snack.)

"I was trying out a new hairstyle," Jane said. "It was supposed to be a half up, upswept braid with a gentle twist on the side –"

Skye snored.

"Anyway." Jane sniffed and turned to Rosalind. "Sorry I kept all of you waiting. Shall we?"

Five minutes later, six humans (Jane would say teenagers, or young adults, but Batty was still eight) and one dog had gathered in front of the next door caravan.

Jane drank in the sight before her thirstily, taking in the fairy bulbs and lanterns that were beginning to glow in the late twilight. She noticed two windows in front, both drawn shut with translucent drapes and chains of bobbles hanging down. What an amazing caravan – and this was only the outside! How she ached to see its interior and study the content indoors. Maybe if she became good friends with Nova – they could have long walks in the woods filled with deep conversations about life. Jane could see herself with Nova decorating the wishing tree, swishing floor-length skirts around, laughing with gypsy boys, beginning a whirlwind summer romance, generally doing whatever it was gypsy girls did…

Batty rang the doorbell (it was a genuine bronze bell that hung loose from a cord). "Coming!" Nova yelled, somewhere from within. They heard some banging and rustling.

How would her gypsy boy look like? Jane mentally constructed his face. Tawny curls, sad, noble eyes – no, he was beginning to resemble Arthur from Sabrina Starr Rescues A Boy. Dishevelled blonde hair, sea green eyes – Jane stopped, because she was starting to conjure up the handsome child actor who had played Peter Pan in the live movie.

Jane tried again one last time. Why should all of her fantasy boys have that broken, abandoned look about them? Not every dream guy of hers needed to have a dark and haunted past they couldn't bear to talk about. Alright. Long limbed, with black, unruly curls, stormy grey eyes, a mischievous, devil-may-care smile that drove all of the local girls crazy – wait, why on Earth was Jane thinking of a certain milk boy –

"Hi." The door banged open and there stood Nova, albeit a breathless Nova. A turquoise hat was crammed onto her stringy, tangled hair. Like Rosalind had described yesterday, multiple braids and beads were twisted into her locks. Jane immediately made a note to try those skinny plaits later on.

Jane's gaze trailed down. Instead of meeting the bare feet she had anticipated, Nova's feet were disappointingly clad in tall lace-up boots.

"You're not barefoot," Jane said.

(Behind her, Skye buried her face in her hands, but of course Jane couldn't see that.)

Nova's mouth lifted. "Where we're going, I'd be asking for trouble if I was barefoot."

Introductions had to be made, of course. The only one Nova had met properly was Rosalind. She'd met Skye on their first morning in Cornwall, but that didn't count because she didn't know her name.

"I'm Jane Letitia Penderwick, alias Sabrina Sta– ow!" Jane glared at Skye. "Aspiring author, soccer extraordinaire. You can call me Jane."

"Skye," Skye said. "Thanks for the advice about the tree, it helped."

"I'm Batty," Batty smiled at her sweetly. "This is Hound."

"Woof." He pushed his head into Nova's hand, and, after tensing to make sure she was of no threat, gave her a slobbery lick.

"I'm Jeffrey Tifton," Jeffrey gave her his usual friendly grin.

"Tommy Geiger." Tommy raised a hand awkwardly, found nowhere to put it, and put it back down.

Rosalind rolled her eyes.

"Where are we going?" Batty asked.

"We're heading to a… cave, of sorts." Nova snatched up a torch from a nearby drawer, latched the caravan door and shut it firmly. "How many of you have heard of a glitter pool?"

Six pairs of eyes stared at her, dumbfounded.

(Hound had already shifted his attention to sniffing Nova's boots.)

"None of you? Good." She led them to the back of her caravan. "Follow me."

"Isn't the way into the forest behind our cottage?" Rosalind asked as they trudged further and further away from the well-worn trail. Everyone followed behind. Jane nodded, agreeing with Rosalind. The trees were melding together and getting so thick she couldn't imagine squeezing between any of the branches to get into the forest. "There shouldn't be another way to get in, I mean, how could we possibly get through any of these…?"

"Ah." Nova looked amused. "That's what those who are familiar with Tanglewood want you to think. See, the most you can get to with that lane is a tiny creek and the wishing tree, and we're selfish about preserving the forest's magic to ourselves."

"Where we're going through," Nova continued, "Well, let's just say that the forest enchantment is limitless." She stopped in front of a copse of bushes and moved aside a huge bundle of branches. A neat footpath was revealed instantly.

"This is like the hedge tunnel Cagney made in Arundel," Skye said, looking impressed.

"I know," Jane breathed, taking in how the footpath wriggled into other sub-paths and stretched beyond.

Nova began hiking up a steep path, warning them in advance about tricky roots and sneaky crevices like only a seasoned forest explorer could. Jane watched fondly as Tommy insisted on keeping an arm around Rosalind's waist to 'keep her from injuring herself'.

Skye pretended to gag and ended up nearly tripping over an offensive rock. Jeffrey burst out into snickers.

After about half an hour of struggling up what seemed to be an extremely tall hill, Nova suggested they stop for a break. Jane flopped down onto a soft patch of moss and swiped away the sweat that had gathered onto her brow. "Phew! That was a lot of work."

"Gather whatever energy you have left," Nova told her. "We have roughly forty-five minutes to go."

"What?" Jane exclaimed incredulously. "Excuse me!? "I didn't know we were heading off onto a seventy-five minute hike!"

"It's worth it. Trust me."

Hound began pacing restlessly and whined. The rest of her companions heaved themselves up. Jane had no choice but to drag herself off the ground and follow.

The sky began to grow darker. Sunset was coming.

"We're just on time," Nova said. Out of nowhere, she began to jog up the remaining path. Jane and the others felt compelled to break into a run. The sun beams that filtered through the top of their heads started to expand as the trees were beginning to become sparse.

"Come on! You don't want to miss this!"

Her excitement was contagious, and soon the six teens (Jane would count Batty in as a teen for now) and one dog burst out of the forest and into a clearing. Everyone skidded to a stop, wide-eyed.

It wasn't a clearing – no, it was much better than that – it was the very top of the hill. There they stood, isolated from the rest of Cornwall, isolated from the rest of the world. The view down below was breath-taking. The rest of the forest and multiple rivers – rivers, not streams, mind you, rivers that churned and rushed past wildly – stretched out beneath them, almost as if Tanglewood was proudly showing off just how beautiful it truly was. It was like looking at a map that was bristling with life.

_ Here you go, _Tanglewood seemed to say. _Did you really doubt my beauty? Well, here you go. This is how beautiful I am; this is how stunning of a forest I truly am. _

Jane flung out her arms and breathed in the sweet scent of nature, the tantalising musk of earth, grass, pure water, fragrant flowers all mixed together to form a nectarine concoction. It was everything nature was supposed to be – untainted and unpolluted.

This was the splendour of all splendours, nirvana of all nirvanas. _This _was what Jane had been looking for. This perch, this grand throne atop the clouds – this was Mount Olympus, fit for the mighty gods and goddesses. They were on top of the world!

And, oh, the sunset! It was magnificent, splendid, wondrous, incredible! Rays of red and orange trickled down onto the ocean – yes, Cornwall did have an ocean – and blended in with the waves, turning the grey waters a brilliant blood red. A sharp gust of wind pushed everyone's hair back and Jane opened her mouth in delight to gulp down the salty breeze. The sun dipped down, slowly, slowly, burning and pulsing, putting on a show no entertainer can ever hope to outperform.

Jane had no idea how long they stood there, drinking in the sight before them. Even Hound wisely kept silent. However, all good things must come to an end, and before Jane knew it, night had fallen as night always does – gradually and patiently, settling down like an obsidian blanket.

The moon came out, its full face glimmering.

Finally, someone spoke.

"Wow," Batty said.

"I'm speechless," Jeffrey shook his head. "I can't even – just."

"I had no idea nature was so powerful," Tommy said quietly. Jane hid a smile. Indeed, nature was so powerful it worked miracles – she had never heard Tommy sound so wise, so mature.

Nova was still staring off into the distance. A sad, wistful smile was on her lips. Jane wondered why.

"Come on," Nova shook her head as if to clear unwanted thoughts. "I have one last thing to show you tonight."

She deftly made her way around the hill – almost as if she wanted to start making her way down. Then she veered to the left abruptly, exposing a dark cave none of them would have noticed had Nova not been there.

"This is going to be slightly tricky," she forewarned. "We'll have to head inside in the dark for the first part, and it's quite slippery."

"What about your torchlight?" Jane asked sensibly.

"No. I can't switch it on until we get to the middle."

"But why?"

"You'll understand in a few minutes."

Nova ducked into the cave and disappeared. Jane looked at Rosalind expectantly. As the most logical and level-headed OAP Rosalind always was, she _was _going to insist Nova switch on her light, right?

Instead, Rosalind shrugged and pulled Tommy in with her.

Jane went into the cave.

Hound barked nervously as the little light the moon had given them faded away. His bark was thrown off and bounced off the walls with resounding echoes, sounding like there were ten other Hounds in the cave with them.

Jane began to hear water running.

Jane felt Batty's hand slip into hers. She squeezed it tightly, feeling a bit scared.

"Halt." Skye was in front of her. "They've stopped."

"Is everyone here?" Jeffrey was behind her. He patted Jane's shoulder reassuringly to let her know he was near.

"We're fine," Rosalind answered. "Nova?"

The white light of a torch flicked on.

Gasps.

Sharp intakes of breath.

Unbelieving eyes.

They were standing in some sort of cavern, in front of an endless pool. Ripples danced on the surface, ringing out as they lapped onto the craggy rocks. The light from Nova's torch enabled them to see that the water was glittering, reflecting a thousand twinkles. It glinted and glistened, sparkled and shimmered, flashed and flickered. It was almost as if they were staring at a bejewelled carpet embedded with precious gems instead of water.

Why was that?

Jane slowly craned her head back. Her hands flew to her mouth.

The roof of the cavern exploded into colours as Nova slowly guided the light up. It was soon ablaze with dancing hues. What seemed to be gold, crystals, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, pearls, garnets, amethysts, opals – they were all encrusted into the roof, running into each other like spider webs, intersecting at crossroads, tangling and twisting within each other.

Jane's throat ached at the sheer beauty she was facing.

"They're not real, of course," Nova's voice slipped into the surrounding air. It was deathly quiet in here; only the pinging of water meeting the pebbles could be heard. "They're minerals. Vanadinite, wulfenite, limonite, fool's gold. They're not worth anything; one of the local geologists came around to confirm that."

"But this cavern is Tanglewood's most prized kept secret. We don't want this to become a tourist attraction. We don't want handle rails to be built, pictures to be taken, stairs to be constructed. We don't want this to be ruined."

Jane heard what was unspoken, the undertones Nova was conveying.

Nova was placing a lot of trust in the Penderwicks (pesky details be gone, Jeffrey and Tommy were Penderwicks through and through). By revealing this cave and its wonders to them, she was taking a risky gamble and putting so much on the line.

Jane swallowed thickly.

Skye ended up speaking for all of them, her voice strong, clear and unwavering. "Thank you, Nova."


	7. Chapter 7

**Aaaaannnnnddddd - Chapter Seven is rolling and ready to go. Once again, thank you for the reviews. Jeffrey's point of view in this chapter is very short - I apologise - but I'll definitely do his POV again and in a much longer length. **

**Question of this update: What are y'all dressing up as for Halloween? I'm going as a cross between a gypsy and a pirate - I was sort of inspired by the influence of going as a female Jack Sparrow. I have the bandanna thing going, along with kickass boots and countless bangles. I'd go for the smudged eyeliner Johnny Depp always rocks, but my makeup skills are non-existent :/**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall. I own only my OCs and the plot.**

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

_Jeffrey Feels Like A Creepy Stalker_

"Hello!"

Rosalind stepped into Nova's caravan, brandishing a tray of pineapple upside-down cake. "I come bearing an offering," she said cheerfully. "What are you up to?"

"Not much." The door shut with a _snick_. "Just being productive – I'm about to receive my master's degree at procrastinating soon."

After the night of the glitter pool, the Penderwicks had basically slid themselves into Nova's life like a neat filing slot. She didn't seem to mind, opening her caravan up to all of them twenty-four hours a day.

Rosalind herself liked to pop in during tea time to have a nice, girly chat with Nova – Nova was an extremely easy person to talk to. She listened carefully, gave in her honest input and there was just something about her easy-going, witty persona that made her such a good conversationalist. Skye would drop by to ask for exploring tips – which hidden path should she go down next, which secluded spot was the best for a great binoculars-slash-telescope session, etcetera.

Batty would come by as well with Hound to curl up on a pile of downy pillows. What they did with Nova, Rosalind had no idea, but she suspected Batty liked to dress Hound up in Nova's impressive collection of clothes – she'd spotted feather boas being rampaged and flung into the air while insistent barking resonated against the caravan walls.

Even Jeffrey and Tommy stopped by on occasion. Jeffrey had lugged his clarinet case over one afternoon, much to everyone's amusement, and Rosalind knew – she just _knew_ that Tommy liked coming over because of the special edition Captain America cards Nova was safekeeping for one of her carnival friends.

Out of all of them, however, Jane spent the most time over at Nova's. She would plonk herself down inside the caravan with her notebook at hand and stay there for hours to the end. Rosalind had walked in on one of their sessions where Jane had been shooting Nova rapid fire questions about gypsies, their lifestyle, and if Nova had any other gypsy friends, could she possibly introduce Jane to them. Rosalind half-expected Nova to get fed up of Jane after a while – Nova hardly ever talked about herself – but Nova seemed to be fine with talking about her friends, as long as the topic never centred onto herself. She patiently answered question after question until Jane ran out of ammunition.

(Jane had also appeared at the dinner table with newly ruffled hair and thin braids, but everyone – even Skye – pretended not to notice.)

Nova clattered around the kitchen bar. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yes please." Rosalind stretched out onto a green beanbag, nestling her head into a furry cushion contentedly. "Oh, Nova, your caravan is by far the cosiest place I've ever set foot in."

And it was true. Mismatched furniture filled the caravan, colourful throws and pillows draped onto every available surface. Thick, plush rugs covered the caravan floor, each a blend of exotic patterns and downy texture. Bits of odds and ends – wonderfully interesting knick knacks decorated the entire place. Dream catchers hung, suspended, twirling in the air, while jars of beach glass positioned on the window ledges let light shine through so the entire caravan was a constant kaleidoscope. Various trunks, some with silky, bejewelled cloths spilling out of them to pool onto the floor, stood tall and proud, tucked into the corners so that not a single one obscured anyone's path. Rosalind loved those trunks, for they were like treasure chests, all made of gleaming mahogany with beautiful carvings.

"Ta-da." Nova plonked down with two mugs, setting Rosalind's down with a _clink_.

Rosalind studied the mug she was handed, smiling as she realised it was a panda – its handle was a bamboo stick. "Where on Earth did you get this?"

Nova grinned. "The fortune teller in the carnival travelled to Shanghai. It wasn't her first time and she knew I already had Chinese dresses, so she bought me this."

"Ah. Well, this is extremely adorable. She has good taste. Batty would love this."

Nova wrapped her hands around her own steaming mug. "You really are their mother, aren't you?" She said quietly.

Rosalind took a long sip, sighing as the sweet, thick taste of chocolate invaded her taste buds. "Yeah. Have been since I was eight."

"It must get difficult."

"It definitely can," Rosalind agreed. "Especially since – well, excluding Batty, our ages literally come one after another. They never say it, but sometimes I can tell that they want to know why my authority surpasses theirs when I'm only one, two years older."

Nova shook her head. "Not surprising. I wish I had Skye's stubbornness. The way she just refuses to let anybody walk over her… That's a good self-defence mechanism I'd like to have."

Rosalind smiled dryly. "Tell me about it. She got it from our mom. Actually – all of us Penderwicks got it from our mom so we're pretty stubborn. It's in our blood to be steely. Skye just got the biggest dose of it in her genes."

"It's better now, though? I can tell," Nova said. "Skye and Jane don't need constant surveillance anymore and Batty is so, so mature for her age. I was never that smart when I was eight – or as responsible as you were, for that matter – I was still playing with my Barbies."

"It's not the beginning, Nova, it's the end result that matters."

"Someone's wise."

"Well, actually, I think I got that wrong. It's the _journey_ that matters most."

"That sounds so Chinese."

Rosalind glanced down at her mug. "Come to think of it, almost every saying and proverb originates from China."

"The Chinese sure liked to talk a lot."

Rosalind laughed.

Nova dug a fork into the pineapple upside-down cake. "Oh, wow," she closed her eyes. "Rosalind, I swear, if you go on producing desserts like this you could win proper baking prizes."

Rosalind smiled modestly. "I think you mean _Jane _could win some proper prizes. Her cooking is just improving so quickly she's hands down the best cook out of all of us. She's catching up on my baking skills, you know. Just that other day she was telling me that greasing the pan with leftover mix would help the yeast rise better. I never knew that."

Nova chewed her mouthful thoughtfully. The cake was being quickly devoured. That was one of the things Rosalind liked about Nova – she wasn't a barbarian when eating, of course, but she didn't eat things in delicately small proportions like the popular girls back home. Those girls were constantly fussing and obsessing over weekly diets, always ordering salads, forever picking at their weight. Nova ate like Rosalind did – she just ate.

"They sure do go grow up fast, don't they?"

Rosalind gulped down the last of her hot chocolate. "Don't even get me started on how I'm going to act when they start dating seriously."

* * *

"Skye!" Skye turned around to trace the source of the voice. She lifted an eyebrow when she realised Collin was jogging up to her, curls bouncing. She wondered what she was feeling – she wasn't overjoyed at his arrival, but she wasn't particularly unenthusiastic, either.

"Hiya."

"Hi, Collin." She tried for a friendly smile.

"Ooh, not there yet. You look like I'm your overbearing aunt who keeps insisting you wear more pretty dresses and attend more tea parties."

Skye laughed at the absurd image of Aunt Claire lecturing her on how to be more girly. "Ha."

Collin's eyes twinkled. "Much better."

He noticed the equipment she had been lugging around. "What's all this?" He gently prised her tripod stand away from her. "Here, lemme help you with that."

"Thanks. I was just going to do some sightseeing. Nova told me that the fourth clearing after the wishing tree was a good spot." Skye shifted the load in her arms that was threatening to spill. Collin automatically took the box containing telescope lenses from her. His eyes turned hopeful.

She looked at him and sighed. "Well, I guess since you're already helping…"

"Of course I'll accompany you! How could I refuse after you asked so nicely?" Collin began to walk off. "C'mon, I'm pretty sure I know which clearing Nova's talking about."

Skye rolled her eyes and caught up with him, binoculars and telescope clanking against each other. She hurriedly adjusted them – she couldn't afford scratches on her precious babies.

"So… I'm guessing you're all sciency and everything, right?"

"I'm not 'all sciency'," Skye answered, offended. "I'm more mathematical than scientific. Just because I enjoy the lectures Iantha gives on the Big Bang Theory and the fact that I like to read up on how the planets function does not automatically lead to the conclusion that I –" She broke off.

"Yeah? That you?" Collin prompted, grin widening by the passing second. He stopped to help her up a particularly steep bank, but she swatted his outstretched hand away.

Skye growled as she stepped up the bank herself. "Yes, Collin, I am 'all sciency'." No point in explaining she was more _astronomical _than _sciency._

"Good! Because I have a question. Well, Annie has a question, actually."

"Who's Annie?" Skye asked.

"Annie? She's my little sis. Love her to bits. She's got me twisted around her pinkie, though; I'd do anything for her. It's unhealthy, actually."

"Sounds like Batty and Jeffrey," Skye muttered. "How she monopolises him around, I will never know. What's her question? I might not be able to answer it, by the way."

Collin tugged at his collar. "It's kind of embarrassing," he mumbled, tips of his ears turning pink. "She wants to know why mama cows always have milk ready."

Skye snickered. "You're blushing. What's the matter, Collin, not manly enough to discuss the wonders of nature?"

"Stop it! It's not _that, _right, it's just –"

Skye shook her head. "Such a disgrace, really; males can't talk about breast feeding when they themselves did so during their infancy –"

Collin made a choked sound.

Skye took pity on him. "It's simple, really. Female mammals have mammary glands. It's just natural. Cows always have milk because the farmers are always urging them to have calves."

Collin let loose a breath. "Thank you. Now Annie will stop bugging me whenever she visits me on the job."

"Why don't you know that, anyway?" Skye asked curiously. She ducked underneath some gnarled branches and burst out laughing when Collin smacked straight into them. He groaned, rubbing his face gingerly.

"Seriously," Skye prompted, after he had recovered. "I learned that when I was in third grade. Heck, all of my sisters learned that in third grade."

"I haven't had the best education," Collin shrugged. "I'm the second youngest and I have five other siblings. That's seven children in total, and me mother's only willing to fork out for those who can actually study."

Skye was astounded. Angry, even. Sure, Collin was annoying, but what kind of parent would forgo paying for their child's education? "I don't get it. Are you trying to say your own mother won't pay for school? What kind of –"

Collin's eyes darkened. "Don't. I know what you're thinking, that my mother isn't a good mother. I _do _go to school. Just – not the best one. In this case, she's not in the wrong. She's being smart and not wasting money on someone who's thick, that's what she's doing."

The gears in Skye's brain clicked. "You have dyslexia, don't you? A severe case?"

"Smart girl," Collin smiled. Skye felt a pang when she realised his smile was self-deprecating. "I know I'm stupid, yeah, you don't need to feel sorry. C'mon, we've reached the spot."

"I –" Skye looked down and realised he was right. They placed the equipment onto the ground carefully. Skye began to set up her telescope, working busily on twisting the correct knobs so that the tripod was at the perfect height.

"Stand here," Skye ordered. Collin put down her binoculars that he had been looking through and came over, looking confused.

"See this?" Skye gestured to a slot on the right corner of her telescope.

Collin stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

Skye yanked his hands out. "Don't do that. That's the manual mode to adjust the micro-zoom on the telescope."

"Skye, I don't see where you're going with this –"

"Just shut up and listen for once, okay? See, when you push it up, the objective lens, which is basically the primary mirror, focuses so the eyepiece lens can take the light and spread it out so the image is spread out over our retina –"

"Like a magnifying glass, which is why a small image can look big," Collin said.

"Exactly." Skye gave him a triumphant smile. "This is why this ability to collect light is directly related to the diameter of the lens, which is called the aperture – which is what this slot controls – so generally, the larger the aperture –"

"The brighter the final image," Collin finished off.

Skye turned to look at him. "Don't you ever call yourself stupid again," she snarled. "None of my sisters – not even my _father _– managed to understand what I just told you without me repeating it at least twice. _You _ended up finishing my sentences. So don't let me catch you playing the let's all pity Collin card to other people, got it?"

"Got it, boss."

His smile was real this time.

(So was hers, but she hid it as she tossed her head and huffed.)

* * *

"Jane!" Jeffrey stuck his head through her bedroom door. "How's the story coming along?"

"Jeffrey!" Jane's head snapped up with such ferocity he felt concerned for her tendons. "Just the man I need! Come, I beg of you, do disperse your natural aptitude for words on me."

Jeffrey swallowed. Sure, he liked to think he was good with words, but was he really? He thought his talents lay only in the musical field. His pathetic attempts at golf had definitely proved _that. _

Suddenly, Jeffrey thought about an incident that went back a few years. "Jane, are you talking about the time I helped you with your ode to Dominic?"

"Yes! Exactly! Without you, my right hand accomplice, my co-conspirator, I would have run dry on what to write! Well, not really, since I would have thought of something anyway – that's what writers do and my vocabulary is vast – but your easy skill for rhyming definitely helped! And I definitely need help now!" Jane turned her big, pleading eyes on him.

Jeffrey hated it when any of the Penderwick sisters did that. _Especially _when Batty did that. Just one look at her shining, adoring eyes and he was a goner.

Great, he could hear Skye laughing at him being a big softie. He was going to go crazy. Why was he hearing things? Was a phantom Skye his brain conjured up going to torture him every time he thought of something embarrassing?

"Wait, do you hear that?" Jane craned her head around at lightning speed. Jeffrey winced. "Jane, careful of your neck, you could sprain it –"

"Shh! That laughter! Skye's laughing and none of us have humiliated ourselves! She never does that!"

"I _haven't_ gone crazy!" Jeffrey grinned, realising that Jane could hear Skye's laughter too.

Jane stared at him.

"Ahem. Sorry."

"It's coming from below." Jane shoved her curtains aside and cranked open her window. It didn't budge. "Come _on, _Jeffrey. A little help here?"

Jeffrey hurriedly crossed the room and strained with all his might. The glass budged open with a gap of an inch.

"Good enough." Jane peeked out, eyes roving around the backyard of the cottage. "Now, where is my sister? If she's been brainwashed by aliens into a happy, dancing blonde –"

Jeffrey snickered. "You know, Jane, Skye _is_ blonde…"

"There!" Jane pointed. Jeffrey decided to humour her and looked in that direction. Collin and Skye ambled out of the footpath Nova had shown all of them. He watched as they worked to shift the huge bundle of branches back into place so the footpath was obscured once more.

"Jane, I don't get why we're doing this. Plus, I feel like a creeper. A stalker. Don't you feel like a creepy stalker?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "Jeffrey, look at the big picture. Isn't it weird?"

"Uh, not really."

"Isn't it weird that not only are Skye and Collin on friendly terms, but the latter is _making_ the former laugh?"

"Uh, not really."

Jane threw up her hands exasperatedly. "I give up."

"No, really." Jeffrey cocked his head to one side. "I don't see why this is that big of a deal. Didn't Rosy tell Skye to apologise to Collin a few days ago? So doesn't that explain why they're both friends now? Friends make each other laugh, right…?"

Jane turned red. "Yeah. You're right. Anyway, I'm busy. Inspiration flowing." She bent over her notebook to begin scribbling once more.

"What about dispersing my natural aptitude –" Jeffrey's eyes softened as he recognised the faraway look Jane acquired. Shutting the door quietly, he went downstairs to find Batty.

(Yes, one of his best friends was an eight year old girl. He was cool, okay?)


	8. Chapter 8

**OKAY. SO. I AM PRACTICALLY TEARING UP WITH FEELS RIGHT NOW, BECAUSE ALL OF YOU ARE BEING SO NICE. WHY ARE ALL OF YOU BEING SO NICE? **

**Words cannot even begin to describe my gratitude. I originally started this story because I was bored and I needed multi-chapter writing practice, but now, I am writing this FOR YOU. YEAH, YOU. ALL OF YOU WHO ARE READING THIS SENTENCE RIGHT NOW.**

**I'm going to reply to all of you right now because that's the least I can do. Besides uploading this next chapter, of course.**

**Jane: Hi, friend. I adore you and your words are too kind. I don't feel like I deserve that high of a compliment, though, because I highly doubt my story is one of THE best in this fandom. I'd hug you in person if I could, but since I can't, have an infinite amount of virtual cuddles from me instead.**

**Anne864: You're welcome. And ha, I take solace in knowing I'm not a creepy old geezer too. It's an achievement, really, not being one. I can safely assure you that I am a teen.**

**Guest: Thank you so much for being that invested! I apologise for the suspense. It's just how I write, though, because I love leaving chapters on a hanging note. **

**StardustTARDIS: I love you. Not only have you been one of the most loyal reviewers from the beginning, you've been so incredibly supportive of my OCs. Did you have fun going as Jack Kelly? He is YUM and I'm curious as to how you interpreted him. Did you put your own twist in a female version or are you already a male? My gypsy costume was a blast – my friend joked that it was the perfect costume to steal stuff from people's houses during Halloween as no one would question me lugging a bursting sack and they'd just think it was all part of the costume. And yes, Captain America is the bomb. Have you watched Thor: The Dark World yet? I sobbed for Loki. Seriously, I would let him rule me ANY DAY. **

**Reflections of Twilight: Yet another loyal reader! – hugs – Uh, that's a very vivid image of what you'd do to Collin. I'd better hide him away from you and confiscate all knives in a 30km radius while I'm at it… Glad you like their friendship, though, and I hope I'll be able to change your mind about him. Yay for making you laugh! I love it when I make my readers laugh. As for shipping Jane with Nova, that's fine as you're entitled to ship whomever with whomever. As long as you don't get Hound involved, because that would be going too far, dude. I draw the line there.**

**km28ave: Thank you so much!**

**Sailheart: Thank you. I really like Jeffrey and Batty's relationship too. Makes me wish I had me a Jeffrey D:**

**PartyCat77: THANK YOU SO MUCH. ANOTHER READER FROM THE CREATION AND THE BEGINNING. CAN I JUST THANK YOU EVEN THOUGH I JUST DID**

**BabyBubble262: Thank you :3 But I did warn you guys from the beginning that I'd update this every few weeks! However, since you asked so nicely, I'll try.**

**That's about it. I'm sorry I only reply to the reviews for each chapter - I don't really have much time to do otherwise. Anyhow, boom. Here you go. Chapter Eight is in da house.**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Jeanne Birdsall. I own only my OCs and the plot.**

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

_Nova Nearly Beheads An Innocent Bird_

_Hands dug consciously into his pockets, head bent with ebony corkscrews soft at the nape of his neck, he stands still as a silhouette. A smile flitters and dances at his mouth in the manner of a butterfly heralding the arrival of spring._

_She glances back, her gaze travelling up, up, up, until they meet his bottomless orbs. Studying his eyes is equivalent to studying the sky when it is stormy with the clouds threatening to pour down gallons of rain. She is teetering at the edge of reality, wobbling at the brink of truth. Smoothing down her clothes, a soft gasp escapes her mouth when he cups her face tenderly._

_"Kiss me," he whispers, long fingers grazing her jawline only to hook into her blonde, no, BROWN strands. He strokes them wondrously and grins as he fingers how straight – CURLY – they are –_

Jane buried her face in her arms and flung her pen against the wall, relishing in the crack that pierced through the air as it bounced off.

Why, oh why had she fallen for the boy who would never be hers? Of all of her sisters – well, alright, maybe Skye was the only other choice since Rosalind was so obviously taken and choosing Batty would have been downright disturbing – but of all of her sisters! Why Skye?

More importantly, why not Jane?

Jane shoved her notebook aside, effectively bunching the leaves of paper together.

Skye was incessantly – Jane liked that word – incessantly – intelligent, yes, and a definite intellectual. However, so was Jane! So her smarts didn't show up directly on pen and paper like Skye and Rosalind, but her talent in arts unmistakably shone, given the opportunity! She had such a vivid imagination and such a natural expertise for sketching out beautiful images with words. She wasn't _too _girly, and she liked to think she was enjoyable to hang out with – effervescent, that was a good description for her personality –

Maybe it was because she was too scatter-brained? At this, the corners of Jane's lips turned down. Or maybe it was simply because Jane was the polar opposite of Skye. Where Jane was careless and flighty, Skye was level-headed and organized. Yes, they both acted on an impulse and were unbelievably stubborn, but that trait ran in the veins of all the Penderwick sisters because of their beloved mother, so that didn't count.

Skye was mathematical and logical – if science did not allow it, nothing would. Jane, however, believed in the practice of _carpe diem_ – seize the day! Let destiny travel its course and let fate take control of your life events. If Lady Luck happened to grace you with her favour, so be it. Legends and folk tales sung true in Jane's world; if their ancestors had bothered to pass the tale down countless generations, the story as a result had to hold truth. Skye, on the other hand, swore by the Discovery Science channel – if whatever it was hadn't gone through a thorough and meticulous investigation to prove its scientific worth, it did not exist. Simple.

Jane began to pace the length of her lovely WWII modelled room. Even in their similarities, Skye somehow managed to best her. To look back on the point that neither of them was exceedingly girly – Jane still appreciated lavish costumes and coloured dresses if the occasion called for it. Skye, on the other hand, needed to be wrestled, clamped down and bribed in some way in order for her to slip into any pants-less garment. Jane did love the odd adventure and found pleasure in the thrill of seeking out new places by exploring. However, Skye craved the adrenaline rush of finding some hidden place unknown to any other person and could not clamp a restraint down on her unrelenting curiosity when at new grounds. New treasures, new wonders, new _landmarks –_

Fingers closing around a few objects, Jane snatched her jacket and bolted out of the door.

* * *

"Batty?" Jeffrey wandered about the forest, scanning the overhead branches. He winced as a thick bundle suddenly gave way to a pentagon of blue sky, causing him to accidentally meet the glare of the sun. "Batty, where are you?"

"Jeffrey?" Jeffrey blinked, black spots dotting his surroundings. Unless Batty had suddenly sprouted twenty inches, the aftereffects of the piercing light had messed with his vision.

He shook his head back and forth like Hound shaking water off his coat.

Nova materialised in front of him, looking concerned. Jeffrey ran a hand through his hair hastily, feeling slightly bashful. "Sorry. The sun got in my eyes."

Nova nodded seriously, although her eyes danced. "I hate it when that happens."

"You're mocking me," Jeffrey complained.

"I'm not. After all, it's not like, oh, I don't know, people learn _not_ to look directly at the sun from a young age."

"I'm special."

"You certainly are."

"You're still mocking me!"

Nova shook her head. A smirk teased her mouth. "Whatever. Hey, were you looking for Batty?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey confirmed. "I've looked all around the cottage so I thought I'd give the woods a go."

"She's not here," Nova told him. "Rosalind just left to join her. She said Tommy brought Batty to town because she wanted to buy some souvenirs."

"Oh. Is, uh, Hound around, then?"

"He went along too. He's been craving the mint brownies, supposedly."

"Ah." Jeffrey shoved his hands into his pockets, nudging a pebble by his foot.

"You know, we could hang out. If you're lonely. Although – of course you're not."

"I'm not," Jeffrey nodded. "Lonely, I mean. Not at all. In fact, I'm quite content. I've got things to do, stuff to see."

"I know." Nova's eyes searched his face. She looked amused. "I never got that impression. And if you're busy, I'll just go." She turned around and began to stride off, boots crunching the leaves on the ground.

Jeffrey blew out his breath and cursed himself inwardly. He counted to ten before swallowing all previous embarrassment.

"Hey, Nova? Can we hang out? I'm lonely."

* * *

"Hi." Rosalind pushed open the glass door and stepped inside the gift shop. A blast of air conditioning hit her as she squeezed Batty's hand before giving Tommy a kiss on the cheek. "Hound's getting antsy outside, as predicted."

Tommy looked disappointed. "Really? We tied him up with three brownies. I thought that'd make him last for at least half an hour."

"Apparently not," Rosalind shrugged. "What have you shortlisted so far, Batty?"

Batty carefully spread out her choices onto a nearby table. "I've got a book about rare Cornwall forest plants for Daddy, a duck with the British flag printed on it for Ben and a bag of toffees for my friends. I'm trying to find something for Iantha now."

"Great. Call me if you need help. I need to find something for Anna." Rosalind switched her attention to her boyfriend and rubbed Tommy's arm. "Hang in there. I know you hate shopping, but can't you find something for Nick? Or your football buddies?"

"Nick never gets me anything and I never get him anything. It's an unspoken rule of Geiger brotherhood. My football buddies don't appreciate gifts unless it's either edible or got something to do with soccer."

"Get something for your mom, then."

Tommy snapped his fingers. "I knew I'd forgotten something! You've saved my life once again, Rosy."

"I seem to do that every day," Rosalind rolled her eyes. She laughed as Tommy pouted. "Don't do that, Tommy, you look like the bull dog down the end of Gardam Street."

"Hey! I resent that."

"Good for you. Now if you'll excuse me, Tommy, some of us actually need to do some gift shopping." She whacked his hip playfully before heading off to the other side of the shop. What to get Anna? What to get…

"Aha," Rosalind murmured, as she found a bottle of nail polish the shade of burnt sunset that she knew Anna had been ranting on about for ages. She picked out one the shade of blue green that reminded her of their bridesmaid dresses for her father and Iantha's wedding for good measure, reasoning that gift shopping could apply to one's self too. Then she found a gorgeous floppy hat that she knew immediately would compliment Anna's sharp, pixie-like features.

She tried it on herself in front of the mirror available. "Darn." Rosalind yanked it off, grumbling at how she had ended up looking too square instead. She guessed what Anna had lectured her about was true – face shapes really did play an important part in what hairstyles or head accessories you got. Placing the hat by the side carefully, Rosalind began to look for presents for her father, Ben and Iantha. Her eyes flickered at the scarf section briefly only to stop short.

"Thomas Geiger! You are _not _getting your mother a cow mug!"

* * *

"Pig."

"No, kraken."

"How –"

"Look at it sideways." Jeffrey paused, tilting his head obediently.

"Yeah, kraken."

"How 'bout that one?" Nova stretched a hand out.

"Guy screaming in pain as his soul is sucked into a never-ending abyss," Jeffrey deadpanned.

"That… Is scarily accurate," Nova admitted.

Jeffrey looked at her sideways and raised an eyebrow. "Who knew clouds could be so violent, huh?"

She laughed.

Lying under the cooling shade of a broad chestnut tree to watch clouds go by had never felt so peaceful. A content smile spread on Jeffrey's lips as he folded his arms behind his head.

Here, with the surroundings looking like they had come right out of an idyllic storybook, even the animals seemed to be slaphappy as they went about their business. The odd squirrel hurried by in rustles, dropping the occasional acorn. Birds chirped in their trees, exchanging tunes and songs, feeding off their companions' message before finishing it off with their own twist.

Jeffrey's fingers ached to slip underneath the smooth knobs of his clarinet and join them. Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten the chance to grab his case before he left the cottage.

A gleaming stream ran by, gurgling and rippling, before opening into a wide, open pool that was crystal clear. Jeffrey could see fish darting in and out of the riverbed, swaying and flipping as they rode the currents. Bubbles rose in an ascending crescendo, only to pop before they could meet the surface.

_Plop – DUNK. _Jeffrey groaned exasperatedly. "No, not like that!"

Nova placed her hands on her hips defensively. "Well, I'm _sorry, _Tifton, but not all of us can skip pebbles effortlessly."

"Well. I do have assorted talents."

"Mm. One of them being modesty of the highest value." Nova tried again, this time swinging her arm way off the average swing. The stone slammed against the bank, almost decapitating an unsuspecting sparrow. The poor sparrow squawked and seemed to almost blanch before it flew away as fast as its wings would carry it.

The stone skidded to an abrupt stop, dirt crushing up grass.

Jeffrey got up and brushed himself off. "I think you need dire lessons from the master himself."

"Are you calling me hopeless?"

"You did just nearly behead an innocent bird."

"… Fine."

Jeffrey grinned. "Acceptance is the first step to the road to recovery! Here, let me show you how it's really done." He crossed over to where she was standing and swiped up a good, flat stone. "First of all, Nova, you're not choosing your stones properly. You've got to find a nice, smooth pebble that's level all the way round. See?"

He dropped the pebble into her outstretched hand and hesitated. Should he – if it had been any of the Penderwick girls, he wouldn't have given a single thought to it, but –

Jeffrey placed a careful hand on Nova's hip and wrapped his hand around hers. "Then," his breath ghosted her neck, "you have to pull back, but not too far." Her hair smelled good. Great, even. "Hover at a spot for a moment," up close, she gave off the warm, spicy scent of cinnamon, "flick your wrist, and – throw."

The pebble bounced off the water's surface six, seven times. At its eighth _plop, _it sank down, right under the riverbed.

A cloud of sand rose up in a silent puff to smother it, unseen forevermore.

Jeffrey swallowed. "And that's how you do it."

Nova sighed and stared off into the distance wistfully. "That'll probably be the first and last time I ever skip a pebble successfully."

He laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"Oh, and Jeffrey?" She turned her face up to him and he caught his breath. Up close, her hazel eyes took upon an earthy brown, mixed with gold flecks and the slightest ring of yellow-green.

"Yeah?"

"You can take your hands off my waist now."

* * *

It didn't take long for Jane to reach the wishing tree. At the most, it took ten minutes from the cottage to the exact spot she was standing at. She tipped her head back and drank in the sight before her slowly.

Frayed, roughed and twisted ribbons of faded pastels wound their way around the gnarly branches only to fondle the open air. The hollow clanging of wind chimes resounded through the forest in a haunting melody that seemed almost to hang, suspended, before interlacing itself through the further branches to fade off.

Jane shivered as she stooped down to study one of the letters upon closer inspection.

"Dear Annabel," Jane said aloud. "Not a day goes by where I don't think of you. Neither does a day go by without me regretting every second of–"

She broke off. "I shouldn't be reading this," she muttered. "It isn't honourable." Smoothing the curling yellow paper down, she gently returned it back into its original position.

"Alright," Jane said under her breath. "Might as well get this over and done with." She sat down, tucking her legs neatly, and set out the objects she had been grasping before her.

A square of blue-lined notepaper. A clean, albeit slightly damp glass bottle. A worn hair ribbon, its colour blue.

The notepaper that was creased, folded up and wrinkled, was also Jane's first draft of her Sabrina Starr gypsy novel. It had also been the exact paper she had been clutching fervently when she had been seeking out the perfect choice of person to read it out to, and fate had answered by sending Collin to knock on the cottage front door. It had also been the piece of paper Jane had read out from, the piece of paper withholding Jane's writing voice that had in the course earned her a hug from said boy himself.

(Obviously, Jane had long rewritten the first chapter of her novel. She mainly kept first drafts in her blue notebook for sentimentality's sake.)

The glass bottle was a milk bottle – the only reason it had been washed and partially dried off was because Jane had wanted to fill it with flowers from the meadow, pleasing to the eye. She had also hoped she could have filled it with beach glass, the way Nova had on display in her caravan, but in the spur of the moment Jane had realized it held just as much significance as the piece of notepaper – if not more – as this had been one of the milk bottles clanking against each other the first time Collin walked into her life.

The blue hair ribbon was Jane's favourite and therefore most frequently worn ribbon. She'd stopped wearing it long ago, for fear of it being threaded to raggedy pieces, but she still took to keeping it in her bags when she travelled as some form of a security blanket. Just looking it at it now brought a wash of nostalgia over her, for now she remembered exactly why the younger Jane had loved it so – it was the point shade of her mother's eyes.

Jane wasn't eager to part with it now and probably never would be (as well as being gloriously messy, Jane was a notorious hoarder who believed every item came with a beloved memory) but she felt that for her wish to be properly taken in for consideration, she had to sacrifice a truly cherished offering in order for the magic to work.

Screwing open the cap of the bottle, Jane smoothly slid the notepaper in. She wrenched it shut and paused. Now, where to put it?

She heaved herself up and circled the wishing tree thoughtfully. Most solid offerings – photographs, soft toys, and letters, even the odd accessory like a hat or single glove – were tucked into the bends of the tree's large roots. They were all extremely easy to spot, though, coming into one's line of vision easily, and Jane didn't want that. If she could just find a hidden crevice like her Enchanted Rock back home…

There. Jane smiled triumphantly and stuck her hand into the slot, wiggling her fingers around experimentally. The space was perfect – narrow enough for a single bottle to be pushed in, and deep enough for the bottle to fit completely. She slid the bottle in gently, relieved when even the bottle cap disappeared out of sight, out of mind.

Now onto the last step of this ritual. Jane cleared her throat and stopped, feeling silly. If she were back home in Quigley Woods, she'd start her summoning chant, but here – here in Tanglewood there almost seemed to be different spirits, different forest guardians. She wasn't a big believer of the supernatural – although, of course, being _Jane_, she left plenty of room open for believing – but even so, Jane didn't feel like risking a few angry forest sprites, and loudly awaiting Aslan, Psammead and the Turtle would probably cause the former to happen.

At last, Jane decided to keep it simple. "O wishing tree," she said, "Please grant my wish. I don't mind how you go about it – just, please, let me fall out of the unrequited love circle. I'd be very grateful. Oh, and if I could find my own other half that would fit me as perfectly as Tommy does with Rosy – that would be nice. Thank you."

Selecting a nice, sturdy branch, Jane knotted her ribbon around it before trudging down the footpath to head back to the cottage.

(It never occurred to her – not once – that the shade of blue of the ribbon, the shade of blue of Elizabeth Penderwick's eyes – that shade was identical to her own sister's.)


End file.
